Resident Evil: N Thanatos
by Vickie1
Summary: Iria Mclenlan, head of the Cape Inacio facility, is trying to free people captive on an isle against their will. She must rely on a T Veronica specimen to help her, especially with an outbreak coming but at what cost? :After CV, with REcharacters & Steve:
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:_ I do not own any Resident Evil characters but I do own the head scientist mentioned here, Project N-Thanatos, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps._

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**RESIDENT EVIL: N-THANATOS**

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_By Vickie1_

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**PROLOGUE**

ESCAPING the chilly cold tundra of Antarctica, a large black object hovered across the clear sky at rapid speed. Its loud roaring in the sky startled a waddle of Adélie penguin chicks on the coastline below. It was an unknown predator, one that any defenceless and flightless bird would fear. They wobbled about, shrieking for their parents long gone to feast on the fishes in the arctic water. However, the enemy did not cease to swoop down and pick up one chick or two. The black foreign object flew onwards and across the Southern Ocean. The danger had passed for the little ones.

The black helicopter was going to bear a long journey towards the equator and with a full tank, it would finish it in about a third of the miles.

The temperature gradually rose as the flying vehicle continued flying northwards. It made three pit stops, located at the farthest tip of Argentina, the Brazilian coast in Espirito Santo and lastly the lively city of Salvador respectively – and hurried on with little rest, exhausting most of the passengers aboard.

In nearly three weeks, the helicopter finally reached its destination.

An island, smacked in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and lusted with humid feral greenery was the location. There were people who inhabited the islet, residing in two divided areas – a small port town sitting in the west coast and a prohibited region at the east coast.

The aerial means of transport hovered to the east coast, its great blades propelling the wind – tearing away fragile palm leaves and scared off exotic birds. From a wooded locale barricaded with electricity fences of 10,000 watts and heavy-duty security to a white sandy beach, it continued on to a landing spot several kilometres from the shore.

It was an enormous platform, with a large white 'H' letter and circle marked in centre. Lights flickered below as the crew in charge of its safety, gave the helicopter the 'okay' to land.

The doors of an elevator shifted open, far from the landing helicopter. A woman in a lab coat walked out, troubled by the sudden blast of bright sunshine and harsh gusts. A hand lifted up, acting as her shield. She kept in a safe distance, away from the swinging horizontal rotors.

If one man did one tiny slip-up, there would be a horrifying sight of a headless body and blood on the helicopter's window. And the head would drop to the sea, to be forever lost by the tides.

She adjusted her glasses to keep the strong wind current from wafting into her green eyes, pulled the strands of her sandy blond hair over her right ear and waited for the visitor to make his appearance.

Wheels touched the ground, giving the helicopter a ruthless shake. The rotors slowly spun to a halt and the noisy engine died.

The first passenger to step out was a man in a trench coat. His expression was veiled behind black sunglasses as they looked about, the same as a hawk stalks its prey. He spotted her and approached with two agents who jumped off the helicopter and followed him like guard dogs.

She sighed bitterly. How she wished someone else would present to him instead of her. But as the director and head scientist of the facility below her feet, it was hard to get away from the likes of him.

"Hello again," he greeted. "I have another specimen to add to your collection."

Albert Wesker was their visitor with a package delivered. He had taken off his winter coat ever since his transportation left Antarctica. It was typical that he was not hot and bothered by the baking heat. After all, this was not his first arrival on the island nor was it the first to be met by him.

A bulky container was hurled out carefully from the helicopter, catching the head scientist's attention.

"It might interest you."

Wesker was correct. It did attract her attention. However, the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat' was kept check in her, thanks to past experiences.

It was rather different for a specimen to be kept in a human-sized box. Normally, the varieties were varied in large size and locked in cages transported to the island by ship. The cages would tremble as the creatures inside would try to break free from the 10-inch thick steel walls but this one didn't quiver.

_It must be sedated._

The container was placed between her and Wesker. She took note of the frost covering the porthole on it as the thermometer on the metal box read at a very low degree. The number of locks and security codes surprised her.

What was inside must be something dangerous, preserved in iciness. Inquisitiveness started to get the better of her.

She reached out and wiped the frost away, her fingers unfamiliar with the coldness. It was far colder than a cool fruity drink with ice cubes.

She held in her revulsion at the sight inside but not her shock.

"...Is this really necessary?" she inquired as steadily as she could but not well enough.

Wesker didn't answer her. He pulled out a CD labelled "**T-V Virus**" in pen from his coat and handed it over to her.

"All data involving the T-Veronica Virus is here. I don't have to tell you what your assignment is this time."

"And him?"

"He contains the virus itself."

Astonishment stained in her eyes as she swiftly wheeled round at the man in black, mentally questioning his reply, but turned back. She could not help but stare at the container in sympathy.

_You must have been through a lot._

"How is Project N-Thanatos going?" he questioned without hesitation.

She deliberately gave a minute of pause, keeping her eyes on the porthole. It was mostly because she had little concern about the project and more to the container before her.

She didn't glance at Wesker when she responded to his enquiry.

"...It has yet to advance to the next stage. There is difficulty in extracting the virus in G-53 to G-99 specimens. Most of the Erinye experiments suffered from immediate respiratory system failure because of the amount of sedatives used."

"And the others?"

She bit her lip, wondering if blood was drawn.

"Have attacked and killed eight of our employees in the last four months."

"How unfortunate."

_Don't say it. Don't you __**dare**__ say it!_

"But sometimes, sacrifice has to be made on the altar of our success."

Teeth grounded inside her mouth, shrouded so that he could not observe her irritation interestedly. Her mind told her to calm down. If she did one mistake, one attempt to take down the bastard...

No. She couldn't, not when he had the upper hand. But one of these days, when he would put his guard down, she would have her opportunity.

She just had to be patient and wait a little longer.

The head scientist wandered her view back to the container. She cleaned the frost off and flung the rest from her red-flushed hand.

"Mind telling me his name?"

A smirk stretched on Wesker's face.

"That's just like you. Always wanting to know who they once were. You have such a good heart but one of these days, it's going to kill you."

The head scientist could almost break the disk in two, knowing he was smiling behind her back. She could feel it daggering into her. The only thing right now that would kill her would be a heart attack, not uncommon to get at her age and healthy status.

It would make her happy if she had one right there and then.

"It's none of your concern."

A soft chuckle was thrown at her.

"If you're curious, why don't you look it up?" He marched to the helicopter, ready for another trip to some god-forsaken place similar to the one that stood beneath her feet.

The engine started, at first with a coughing throttle and then the rotor blades began to rotate. The roaring of the helicopter deafened the crashing waves around the platform.

"Inform me of any news, Mclenlan. I will be back for another visit and the next time I come, I expect some good results."

The agents and Wesker boarded back on the vehicle. The crew gave the signal and the driver took it to the air.

The head scientist watched as the black helicopter hovered off the platform before soaring off the horizon and becoming a mere black speck. One thumb rose up and pointed on the black dot. She moved it about as if it was nothing but dirt and needed to be pitch away by her. By the time her thumb shifted, the helicopter was gone.

She gave the order to have the container moved into the elevator and followed suit with it.

A tiring sigh was let loose. She slipped off her glasses and rubbed the tension in her eyes. It was the start of the morning and already, it seemed like it was going to be a long day for her and her colleagues. What was more, she didn't get enough sleep the night before.

_Could it not get anymore bothersome than this?_

She leaned against a wall and stared aimlessly at the container, now loaded next to her.

_He intends to make you a B.O.W. no doubt... How despicable..._

"Well...welcome aboard, kiddo... You're probably hating this already..."

**Ding!**

The elevator doors closed. The loud noises outside suddenly diminished, replaced by uncanny silence. It felt awkward, especially when her guest could not speak. Perhaps, she thought, the guest agreed with her.

She couldn't help but laugh delicately. It somehow made her feel a little better.

"That makes the two of us."

She gazed down at the disk in hand. T-Virus, NE-T Virus, G-Virus – the list went on and on. All of them were the worse, far dangerous than the Ebola virus. Mass zombification and bizarre mutation were the consequences, making them the ultimate biological warfare.

And the facility she worked in had all of the above, including a new creation. And now there was the T-Veronica Virus to add to the anthology.

All the viruses in one bundle, in one place. It sounded like a hell on Earth.

The fear of another outbreak was inedible. The downfall of Raccoon City had been all over the news in 1998, when she was but an immediate scientist climbing her way to the top. Recently, she heard the news of Rockfort and it sickened her to hear many – few whom she knew in her university and were transferred to Antarctica – had perished.

She blamed the outbreaks on Umbrella Corporation. A reputation like that would surely cause the corporation to fall, incriminated for the thousands of innocent people dead. In spite of everything, they were the one who started this mess and yet they still hid behind their lawyers with deny.

May God smite them, she had thought that long ago and that may happen soon enough.

Fortunately, the facility she worked belonged to some other company, one that Wesker worked for and one that have given everything to prevent another epidemic to occur in the facility. Safety came first but it did not ease the terror.

Too many sleepless nights and she had already forgotten about the company's name. It would come back to her again, despite seeing the company's symbol imprinted on the lift's door. But she hoped one day the name would become just a faint memory.

She dropped her glasses and the CD into the pocket of her white coat and again sighed heavily.

"...So tell me, kiddo," she asked, knowing no answers would be given while the elevator continued descending.

Inside the container, bubbles rippled and red hair flowed about in gelatinous liquid – a miraculous solution that can halt early decomposition, which is if the body was an hour or two after death. A large wound through his abdomen was barely stitched up with haste by the attempt of a medic whilst a fresh patch of blood circulated through tubes, needled into blue veins intersecting across his hands and chest. An oxygen mask was positioned on the specimen's face while other medical machinery attached to the container was running his vital organs, preventing the end from claiming his soul.

The words the scientist would say next would be muffled by the liquid, failing to reach his ears. His body was barely alive, just barely but it was unclear to the head scientist if his mind was as well.

Regretfully to both her and – if he was awake this minute – to the specimen, it was all thanks to the virus inside of him.

The blinking fluorescent light that repeatedly streamed upwards through the narrow slit amid the elevator doors gave the head scientist a mesmerizing feeling of serenity.

"Do you believe in second chances?"

The elevator disappeared further down the shaft.

On the surface, the alarm howled. The crew cleared the area quickly and took the other elevators down to the facility below.

A mechanical sound erupted throughout the platform. Double seal-tight gates closed shut, ensuring no water would enter the elevator shafts. The platform shook violently and the waves crashed even more. In an instance, the platform began to plunge into the sea. Like a disappearing act performed by a magician, it obscured itself under the blanket of saltwater.

The ocean consumed it in a matter of seconds. There was nothing that showed it ever existed.

A facility near Cape Inacio never existed.

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_**Authoress:**_ My first attempt on a RE fanfic... Also my first attempt on writing a T-M rated fanfic! It's kinda scary, I had doubts about writing this idea. I did come up with plot twists to make this interesting but was discouraged that even with them, it's still not good enough. Even thinking of the names worried me 'cause I really am bad at names! But thanks to two people who encouraged me, I wrote the prologue in 1 day, checked it and re-checked it and double-rechecked it.

So I'd like to dedicate this first chp of the fanfic to **Prowler-Wolf **here in FFN and **Cornebus** from DA. THANK U GUYS! -cries happily-

Now that I started this, expect action, adventure, lots of comedy and most of all, horror packed up on one little island! Mostly, the blood, gore, torture and humor is the part I'm going to enjoy writing. MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Gomen, I sometimes have an evil mind.

And you can guess who the specimen is but be warned, just because you got the right answer doesn't mean I am going to be putting pairings in it. Romance are not a biggie for me and certain RE pairings are okay (sorta) but not all. Plus, don't know if I can even squeeze that in with all the horror I want to write (and that's about five times bigger than romance :D ).

I would like to try an OC paired with a character, not too great a romance, but I think you fans are gonna jump on me and rip me to shreds. And I don't want that to happen unless I know it's alright. -ducks with shield in terror-

Okay, enough of the author's note. I really do hope you like this prologue and are interested in what's coming up. And I hope myself that I get this right since it's my first time (looks like I'll be doing a lot of research). Please feel free to give a bit of criticism (NO FLAMES!) in your reviews.

Thank you for reading and I'll be grateful if you review, review, review, REVIEW! –grins horribly-

P.S. What's the company Wesker is working that's not Umbrella? I'm a bit confused with that part.

P.S.S I might redo this again and the bad summary I've written. Don't know if there's any grammer mistake or needs part reediting.

Oh, I forgot. The head scientist is more of a comic relief here. She and most of the scientists going to be mentioned here are good people with sadly a crisis in their freedom. But you'll laugh at how much stress and suffering she gets. Sometimes the stress gets to her and she starts cooking up weird plans to escape them with an evil twinkle in her eye. I love torturing my OCs till they go mad. X3


	2. Awakening From the Nightmare

Disclaimer:_ I do not own any Resident Evil characters but I do own the head scientist mentioned here, Project N-Thanatos, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps._

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_By Vickie_

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**CHAPTER ONE**

THERE was the infinity. He saw darkness everywhere and felt draughtiness upon his flesh. Regardless of looking or shoving their existence away, they were still there. Millions of unanswered questions vaguely crowded in his head, failing to process. It was a slow progression like the gears in his head had rusted.

It was such a terrifying thought and because of that, he simply could not contemplate. What was more, his memory was blank.

But not entirely, they were short flashes jagging about like the fuzzy lines in the television and someone had to bang his fist on it to get the picture back. He tried hard to get one comprehensible image but it ruptured abruptly in failure.

So remembering was out of the question.

He was cold but he could not command his arms to move and wrap around his body for heat.

The obscurity did nothing to help him. All he could do was listen evidently. Somehow, his ears had turned on and heightened their sensitivity. Echoing footsteps on the linoleum and hushed voices about but he could not make out who the possessors were. He could tell there were twelve of them speaking, four close by and eight somewhere in the distance.

Was this death? Were they angels arriving to take him away from the perpetuity?

The freezing blackness was seemingly eternal, the omnipresent whispers rhythmically danced about. There was no end to their domination.

That must be it.

"_Are you sure about this?"_

He tried to open his eyes. Slowly, all he could see was the colour blue. His ability to see adjusted until he made out four blurred figures in white beyond the cerulean colour, standing below him.

His vision could not improve to see any clearer. Their faces were but masks emptied of eyes, noses and mouths.

Bubbles of air rose upwards around him.

Something was not right.

_I'm...alive?_

The air bubbles were his breaths in heavy, ragged gasps. His lungs had been working a long time ago, sucking oxygen hungrily and dispelling out carbon dioxide like clockwork.

_I'm alive..._

He was alive, not dead.

However, he was also drained. Cramps attacked every muscle in his numb body if he tried to nudge a finger. His arms and legs felt like weighs attached to them. Celebration for his resurrection would have to be done later until his energy returned.

Maybe when he felt better, he could laugh out loud at the face of the Grim Reaper. Just not now.

"_I've only read about it but could that really work?"_

By the shape of the figures before him, he could make out two men and two women.

One of them – her facial features was very hazy except for her glasses – answered, _"It's straightforward but sometimes, you have to use the simplest solution for a very tricky problem."_

"_It's worth a shot."_ One of the men, the tallest among the group, scratched his head. _"I think he has had enough sleep for a lifetime."_

"_But what about-"_ The second man wearing a cap turned back was cut short.

"_Them? Don't worry. I'll take the blame,"_ replied the glasses-wearing figure swiftly.

"_But still, what if he comes out as a vegetable? Or worse."_ As meek as a mouse, the shortest or was it the youngest lady – he couldn't tell – waved something flat and paper-like about.

"_You're having doubts about revitalizing this kid?" _questioned the tall man.

"_Well...no...but..."_

"_...All we can do is hope that all our efforts aren't wasted. And if that fails, we will try again and again...until there's nothing left to try."_

A good answer such as that immediately silenced the two anxious figures, steadily given by the glasses-wearing figure.

"_Continue monitoring his brainwaves and vital signs. Let me know where the order arrives too."_

"_Okay, Big Sister Ai."_ The timid woman and the man with the cap disappeared from his vision.

"_You've become really fond of this one. You're even tossing aside the chances of him becoming a mindless slobbering animal. And that's unlike you."_ He heard the tall man cry out a heartfelt chuckle. _"Mind telling me the reason?"_

The glasses-wearing woman who they called Big Sister Ai gazed up at him with what expression, he could not tell.

"_Because,"_ she began._ "He deserves a second chance..." _

The silence hung, advising him to go back to sleep. His eyes grew too heavy to remain open and they soon gave up. He slipped back to sleep and the blackness greeted his recoil.

She expected that. It was a temporary wake-up call but in spite of that, she hoped that the next time he opened them, they would remain with the optimistic thought there was an intelligent human behind them.

With any luck, the order she called for would help him along.

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She was running for dear life, a gun assisted in her hand and a shuddering finger readied on the trigger. She sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her down the narrow corridors, her lungs burning up. She couldn't stop for a break. Her life depended on her sprint to survive.

An unrecognisable howl chilled the vertebrates in her spine. She gazed over her shoulder but stopped for nothing.

"_Please! No!"_

She was fleeing from the boy she had cared so much for.

But that boy was no longer here. In his place was a bio-weapon humanoid, thirsty for the spillage of her blood and the squeeze of her screams.

It hated her running, unreachable to the swing of its blade. It wanted to butcher and slice her to pieces. It desired to see her lie on the floor in her own red stain.

Its grunts were growing louder, warmer to the hair on her neck.

Then it became deadly quiet.

She halted. Frightfully, she looked back in wonder and the pounding terror in her chest withdrew from her in an instant.

Now standing a distance from her wasn't the Tyrant waving a ceremonial axe angrily and screeching inhumanly for her death. It was but a young spirited redhead, expressionless and hands in his pocket.

He was her redhead, her friend.

An overjoyed smile painted across her face but as fast as it had come, it soon turned upside down with dread.

He turned away – his back to her – and began walking.

Terrible fear devoured her.

"_Wait! Come back!"_

He did not heed her call. He did not look back and guarantee her he was here to stay. Something was taking him away from her.

He kept on walking.

"_Please! Don't leave!"_

She tried to run, to throw her arms round him and beg for the redhead to stay. No matter how much she ran, the feet between them seemed to lengthen. The more she dashed after him, the more he seemed so far away. The boy was going farther and farther, shrinking down the passage.

"_COME BACK!"_

Until he was gone.

"STEVE!"

Claire Redfield bolted out of her bed, widened eyes and sweat dripping down her cheeks. She panted heavily, her heart racing against the seconds ticking of her watch on a drawer.

She glanced at her surroundings. She wasn't in the cold frigid land but in her familiar homely bedroom, the eerie darkness surmounting it. Her alarm digitally read four-thirty in the morning, the rising sun far-flung from its arrival.

She tried to calm the fast thumping, giving regular breathes. At long last, she relaxed her anxiety but squeezed the fabric of her quilt amid her fingers.

A reality reared its ugly head, mocking her that a companion she once knew was dead, taken from her by a heartless man. The thought of the one she promised they would escape together brought back from the dead pursued her mind, so was the fear of him differentiated grotesquely. It confined her, making it hard to swallow.

Guilt attacked her everywhere again – she had lost count. Acceptance that the boy was lost forever or would be revived as something worse than the sight she saw and wished to forget from her experiences in Raccoon City and Rockfort Island was so cruel to her.

No answer to the long-awaiting question of acceptance had been given and there was a possibility it will never be given.

It has been a long time since she had that nightmare. Very long indeed. Why did it reel back was left uncertain.

Claire rested her head on her knees and heaved a sigh.

_Oh, Steve..._

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_**Beep...beep...beep...**_

The noise resounded in his ears and again, he still saw the blackness. However, a pleasant whiff of married fruits and flowers flowed up his nose.

It was a crisp and strong smell of lilies, mimosa, blackcurrants and cocoa combined as one.

Right away, a memory rushed in. A bedroom was presented, where a woman sat near a dresser and picked up a perfume bottle. She wore the fragrance on her wrists and sniffed the heavenly scent.

The woman then noticed she was not alone, gazed at her watcher and smiled maternally.

Her identity was unreadable but there was something remotely familiar.

_Wait...I smelt lilies and mimosa and blackcurrants and cocoa?_

His body still felt the same as before, weighed down by fatigue. His mind was also still numb. It might be a while longer before the gears could start to move.

There was a sluggish struggle to open his eyes once more. When they finally did, white light blasted intensely above him. A moan escaped his dry lips, alerting the owners of the voices he had heard before.

"Well, I'll be. It worked. Sleeping Beauty's finally waking up."

"Incredible..."

"Dang, who would have thought the power of perfume could do that."

"And Big Sister Ai was the one who did just that."

"Would you stop calling me that?!" An irritated snap burst out close to his right.

He wheeled his head to see a face. At first glance, he thought it was indeed an angel in white. How distressing, he really wanted to yell that he was alive and kicking. But one close examination revealed the whiteness she wore wasn't a winged robe but a doctor's unbuttoned coat over a turtleneck sweater. The glasses she wore informed him she was one of the figures previously.

He couldn't recall how long he had been out like a light. His guess was a couple of days.

"Can you hear me?"

It was a tender voice. He glanced at the woman in white, who was in her late twenties. Her sandy blond hair was tied up in a bun from interfering with her olive green orbs behind the glasses. They had the evidence of many disturbed nights, the black rings beholding a dead giveaway. Nevertheless, the lack of sleep did not seem to trouble her much.

In her hand was a tiny bottle, holding the aroma. The woman placed it aside, on a stainless steel counter. She took out a small pen-shaped flashlight from one of her pockets and switched it on.

A thumb pulled down one of his eyelids. At the sudden motion of direct light into his eye, he flinched responsively. The woman moved to the other eye and swung her flashlight several times, checking if the cornea and lens were not damaged.

Another groan uttered, pointing out his annoyance at the brightness to her.

His eyesight was so far so good. She switched the flashlight off and traded it for a ballpoint pen from her breast pocket. With it between her fingers, she put the back of her hand to his forehead, dragging away his red locks – warm to the touch.

He shivered. He had not realized how cold he was till now.

Finally, she picked up a clipboard assembled on her lap.

"I'm Doctor Mclenlan, head of the Cape Inacio facility. You will be in my care, alright?" she told him and readied her pen onto her clipboard. "I'm going to ask you some easy questions. Take your time on them... What is your name?"

_My...name...?_

He tried his best to focus on reminiscing. His name was most important. It would be strange if he couldn't remember his own name first.

_What...is my name...?_

"Don't rush it," she assured him. "You have all the time in the world."

It started with a S. The name seemed cloudy to begin with but seconds later, it became clear, followed by his surname.

"S-Steve...B-Burnside..."

The head scientist held back her sigh of relief. She could be at ease now that he was recalling. Thank God, he wasn't having memory loss. Nor was he brain-dead.

"Good. You're doing fine. Do you know how old you were before you lose conscious?"

His brain worked hard to obtain the answer successfully.

"Y-Yes...17."

"Okay. Can you tell me if you have family?"

His family... That took longer to move apart the wrecked flashes, to unlock one image he could remember. The memories were pouring like an old film reel playing before fleeing.

The fantastic bouquet brought him back to the lady sitting in the bedroom.

That was right. That was his mother. This was a memory from when he was young lad. A voice urged him to look away from the bedroom to a man who stood beside him at the door.

His father.

It stopped halfway, interrupted by an electrifying flash. Crimson liquid stained a red and white symbol.

His eyes shot open. Doctor Mclenlan did not notice his frightened face, her attention to the papers on the clipboard.

_Calm yourself...you didn't see blood._

"Y-Yes..." Steve answered with hesitation. "M-My...m-my father..."

"Anything you can remember about him?"

Bits and pieces of his memory slowly returned, but still distorted by horrifying scenes. First, it was him, a grown-up boy standing between his parents who sat on the couch happily.

Then it shifted to the walking dead.

On an island, in Antarctica.

Pulling the trigger. On who?

Zombies everywhere. One particular undead character he fired.

A syringe inches away from his skin, containing a strange-coloured and vile liquid.

Insanity plaguing a madwoman's red gashing smile.

_Please stop...!_

The images were overwhelming, piling one after the other. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to be unreal. Sweat drenched down his brow as he shut his eyes.

At once, the head scientist detected his trembles. Concerned, she trusted her words could rouse him out of the terror, a hand on his shoulder.

"Steve, it's alright. There's nothing to be afraid."

Needless to say, the blackness came back and made it worse for him, the illustrations forwarding faster and faster. Chills jolted down his spine. His hearing deafened Doctor Mclenlan's persistent voice completely.

"_Be careful, Steve."_

That voice, it was recognizable.

A flashback of a young brunette hit him like tons of bricks.

Who was she?

He knew her. He had to!

She appeared to him when the chaos began. She was always there beside to him, a guardian angel, a Joan d' Arc thrown down and fought the zombies and other freaks from Hell for their survival. She was present in search of her brother.

There were moments of comfort between him and her. And something he had for her. Love?

Finally, her name came to him.

"C-lairee..."

"Pardon?"

Steve remembered her. He remembered everything.

He was imprisoned in Rockfort Island and escaped from his cell during the viral outbreak. He was forced to shoot down his father, his own flesh and blood infected and altered. He was captured and injected with the virus as a test subject by Alexia Ashford.

_Oh god... No, no, no, no, no!_

His body had mutated monstrously. He lost his mind to the monster within and tried to kill Claire.

But he didn't, thanks to her angelic voice that snapped him back to reality. He saved her but after his effort, wretchedly, he didn't see that tentacle come and pierce through him.

His breathing stopped and he died in her arms.

Steve gasped, his eyes jolt wide open. He glanced about hurriedly, aware he was in an alien place, not at the dark and cold corridor where his death had happened. It was a room that as if had been taken out of a hospital and given a high-tech décor.

He ignored the scientist's apprehensive face because it was not Claire's.

_Where is she? Why weren't we together?_

He had to find her. He had to tell her he wasn't dead.

Steve tried to move desperately but found his hands and feet were shackled.

_Why can't I move?!_

He didn't know what was holding him down but he demanded freedom and he demanded it now.

Doctor Mclenlan and the other eleven scientists began to get gravely worried.

"Hurry! Get the sedative!"

"No! No sedatives!" she ordered sharply. "Steve, please calm down! We're not going to hurt you."

_Let me go!_

He was disoriented. The poor boy was panicking.

"Steve, listen to me. Everything's going to be al-"

She wasn't quick enough to see his hand break free from the titanium cuff that ringed around his right wrist and launch at her throat.

Tightness, she could feel it drape around her windpipe as full force shook her off her chair and the clipboard and pen fell to the linoleum.

"IRIA!" someone screamed.

The floor was no longer beneath her feet. She struggled to get them planted back on the ground but it was too distant for her toes to reach.

_**CRASH!**_

The stainless steel table knocked over, tiny bottles shattering into pieces. Nauseating smells of floral, oceanic, gourmand and citrus brands fumed the whole room.

Breathing was turning out to be difficult for Doctor Mclenlan.

Low, inhuman growls and the sickening sound of bones reforming tempted her to look down. If she was able to speak, it would have been a horrified scream.

The given medical garment the boy wore tore open as his body hunched over, his head pushing outward. Muscles rippled underneath scales of a Hunter developing and curtaining down his skin, which was amending from beige to grey green. Jagged bone spurs emerged from the left of his expanding shoulders. Ribs cracked and inflated collectively as his massive flesh continued to grow. His spine stretched upwards, a massive bloodless gash slithered across the hump of his back.

The feeling of his hands elongating and claws emerging as they choked her oesophagus was unavoidable.

"W-heee-reee is Claaai-reee?" the frog-like creature demanded.

The head scientist wheezed to breathe but the grasp tightened angrily. She was a weakling, trying frantically to pry herself free. One way or another, her small hands couldn't get hold of his bulging claws to gasp for air.

"WHEREE IS SHEEE?!"

Red orbs of an enraged animal pierced through her soul.

She had never been so terrified.

"Take him down!"

A sharp sting localized at his side. Two more confined on his arm and leg. In matter of milliseconds, voltage shocked through his entire body, paralyzing his muscles. His grip loosened in a jiff and Doctor Mclenlan was released, falling onto her rear.

A howl exploded from the creature. He thrashed about, trying to shake off what was causing the anguish but the three pricks stuck to him like glue.

He was in excruciating pain.

"STOP! Stop your Tasers!" Doctor Mclenlan shouted.

The electric attacks seized fire at her command. The monster lied exhaustedly back on the white operating table – strong enough to support the unexpected mass. His extended ribcage pulsed up and down fiercely until he ultimately blacked out.

"Iria, are you okay?" The tall man rushed to her side. The other co-workers awaited her answer, greatly vexed that she was severely attacked and injured.

Their superior did not reply. She stared lock at the monstrosity that was once a young man named Steve Burnfield who rested on that same table minutes ago, panting heavily with agony imprinted round her throat.

She must have miscalculated something. She must had!

That shouldn't have happen.

* * *

Claire had tried to ignore the loud ringing of her alarm clock and let herself drift into slumber a little longer to make up for loss sleep. She was in no mood to jump up early and go through a routine of tasteless breakfast and a morning job.

In the end, she gave up to the mechanism to endure a half-slept morning.

"Morning, Claire."

Her beloved brother, Chris Redfield, sat at the table in the kitchen and finished halfway through his eggs and bacons as Claire ambled down the stairs lethargically, wearing nothing more a crumpled shirt and shorts.

"I expected you to sleep past noon on the weekends," he said, folding up his newspaper.

"Hmph," she murmured. "I'm not a sleepyhead. I can wake up much earlier than that. So, are you going anywhere today?"

"Maybe," Chris answered. "Jill was supposed to ring me up before lunch."

"Oh?" Her smile deformed playfully, wicked curls at the ends. "Anything in particular?"

"None of your business," he spoke in a harsh tone that the subject should be dropped and burnt without delay.

"Suit yourself." She took the kettle and poured hot water into her cup of five spoons of sugar and one teabag, still grinning.

"Did you have a bad dream last night?"

The smirk faded. She stared down at the water pouring. A question like that wasn't what she wished to respond at the break of day.

"Why do you ask?"

"You screamed." He kept silent, his tongue unmoved from speaking the name she shouted late at night, knowing all too well it would bring back more than just nightmares. He may be defensive over his sister, not giving her to chance to risk flying off into the face of danger but it was for her sake.

He couldn't bear losing her.

The hot water filled up her cup and overflowed onto the counter. With a curse at her carelessness, she put the kettle down and snatched a towel near the sink.

"Are you sure you are alright?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Claire, if there's anything on your mind, you can talk to me."

She smiled at his offer. "You'll be the first one to know."

Chris nodded and headed up to the bathroom to shave, now unoccupied.

The uncanny stillness returned, crawled out from her dream and into the kitchen. Like an invisible enemy invading her world, she wished to grab a knife and cut the silence apart, even if that sounded silly to her. It was so utterly quiet, one pin would be enough to shatter it.

A heavy sigh did the trick. She gazed at the plain and dull calendar hanging above the kitchen counter, realizing soon Labor Day was coming next week.

She counted the months. It had already been two long years since that fateful day.

Two years fighting her nightmares and bringing down those responsible for them manifesting, to shut down Umbrella permanently. She was no more the nineteen year old college student whom confronted horrors she shouldn't have seen, now she was a full-fledged woman with some emotionally scars bearing.

After the Redfield siblings escaped from the South Pole facility, they tried to continue from where they left off. She stayed at their parents' house while occasionally Chris would crash in for the night. Life in the university was tough on her, the atrocious memories repeating day and night. After graduation, she decided to join by her brother's side in the battle against Umbrella, despite many refusals tossed from him.

Eventually, she won the discussion – with the help of Jill Valentine to boast – on one condition that she was not to come near to any field work.

Always the overprotective brother he was, Claire thought to herself.

Her thoughts traced back to the calendar. It never crossed her mind how fast time had gone.

Claire took a seat at the kitchen table to eat quietly a bowl of cold cereal. However, she had no appetite and chucked the wasted food down the bin close by. She drank her hot tea and laid her sight at the unruffled view outside her window, hearing the birds in the treetops and the traffic down in the streets, under the graceful sunlight.

She could only hope that Steve, whether dead or alive, was alright somewhere out there.

Safe from Albert Wesker if possible.

* * *

In the infirmary, Iria Mclenlan groaned devastatingly. The swathed clean bandages and the melting ice pack did nothing to ease her aching neck.

Three of her fellow colleagues brought her there in a heartbeat, out of the sterilized lab where they had placed Steve for a physical and simple experiment. The rest of her unit stayed behind, restraining the unconscious frog monster down.

At first glance, the doctor current in the sickbay was shocked to see maroon-coloured bruises in the shape of a huge hand enveloping her whole neck completely and hastened to check if her neck vertebrates were going to crack like a twig.

Who would have thought she would become the patient and not the doctor.

Iria wasn't concerned much on either her injury or the chances of getting infected with the T-Veronica virus – thankfully, no cuts and certainly, no crushed bones. The virus could only be transferred through direct injection so she was in no serious danger.

However, she was anxious about Steve. No doubt, the security officers had already charged in and thrown him in a very secluded cell somewhere in the facility.

Also, his impulsive change bothered her the most.

"Using fragrances to wake a person out of a coma," exclaimed the doctor, giving Iria a warm cup of chocolate to relax her nerves. "It only happens in statistics and melodramatic novels but it's also medically possible."

Robert Perry was one of three remedial doctors supervising whichever individual that walks through the infirmary doors with factures, normal illnesses, colds, and others unrelated to the viruses observed in the facility. As long as it was something that was curable and could be solved, he was resolute to patch up the patient right back on his feet.

He was a plump bloke, thirties and bound to an electric powered wheelchair. Ten years ago, he lost the ability to walk in a fire accident, a blazing beam rendering him paralyzed.

"I'm surprised you went through with it."

"Actually, it wasn't for the coma. He had woken up two week ago and then went out," Iria explained and blew into the steamy drink.

"Oh? Then what were you trying to achieve?"

"I thought it could wake his mind up, whether in a coma or not." She gazed down at the swirling motion in her cup going clockwise. "The surveillance video taken from the South Pole facility showed he did have an ounce of himself left in him. It gave me an idea to try bringing him out from the likelihood of a persistent vegetative stage and memory loss."

The security footage, recorded into the CD she was given by Wesker, was damaged. There were no lab technicians to help fill in the spaces, thus she had to figure out the missing happenings in vain.

For a short thirty minutes, she endured watching the horrible and stomach-churning panorama of blood-soaked floors packed with moving tentacles, lifeless doctors standing, humanoids swaying distinguished enormous right arms, hideous creepy crawlers and giant newts.

One or two times, Iria saw a familiar face and looked away in disgust. When the show was over, she rushed out of the surveillance room and threw out her lunch.

On the examining table she sat, she allowed her mind to trend, recalling the first change the poor kid had to tolerate in the footage and wondering if the faceless girl she saw running from him went by the name Claire.

She must be someone special to Steve.

"But I never expected this to happen. I didn't think he would mutate again."

"It was rather stupid of you to refuse sedatives. You nearly got strangled by a Tyrant."

"And I lived to tell the tale. So sue me."

Robert snorted scornfully. He had always found her sense of humour arrogant at times she encountered close-to-death experiences.

But that was Iria. Smart enough to put off a test on Proustian Memory.

"Still, it was clever to use the power of smell to your advantage. Smell is different from the other senses, intimately linked to memory. Re-encountering a scent from the distant past can trigger a rush of memories in the brain."

"Yup, and the key was in one bottle, Eau de Charlotte. It worked. He woke up fine in the brain. Now the problem is that the lab stinks to high heavens of perfume," Iria pointed, nervous laughter loosening from her. "The employees won't go ten feet near the entrance and the janitors have been fussing about cleaning up the stench."

"Well, thank your lucky stars it was a mild strangulation. If he had held on long enough, he would have snapped your neck in two."

Robert drove to the counter and looked to find the painkillers he had prescribed for the soreness.

"To tell you the truth, this is the first time... I was scared," she admitted. "Heh. It made me wonder."

Robert noted her empathy and dismay.

"Was that the same thing the kid was feeling? Surrounded by strangers, believing he was on a tray ready to be dissected. When he was strangling me...all I could think of was getting free. I wanted him to let me go, run back home and hold Hannah and Rick very tight."

She reached out and nonchalantly touched the bandages.

"I really thought that if I didn't break free...I wouldn't be here...and never tell those two how much I love them."

The steadied anxiety in her eyes swept away as she lit up a cheering smile.

"What the heck am I talking? I'm still breathing. Sorry for talking out like this."

A remarkable woman she was but miserably, the stress was devouring her slowly for nine years, as violent and unpredictable as a cancer itself.

The job had only been dropped into her hands the moment after the former head strangely departed to Heaven. The strong ambition of achieving the seat instantly washed from her because she did not earned it. It was simply thrown to her like a worthless present that had lost its significance. The day she was given the seat was the day the pressure began.

Robert could only hope there was a silver lining in her grey clouds.

"Well, I should get going. There's no rest for the boss," she proclaimed, slipping off the table.

"I know what you're going to do," said the good doctor, passing the tablets to her. "You're going to visit this kid again, aren't you?"

There was no escaping him. She could never lie to Robert, who was twice the honest chap than five British gentlemen chattering in a fish and chip eatery.

"You know me. I can't hold a grudge."

He sighed. "Just be a little more careful, alright?"

"Don't worry. I'll be," Iria answered and gave a pat on her black Taser device, hanging in its eXoskeleton holster belted to her waist. With that, she walked out the infirmary, her thoughts drifted back to the change-into-a-Tyrant subject. It really left her bewildered, begging for the answers to roll up before her.

Her concentration took the better of her. She merely walked past her three colleagues, who were passing the time outside the sickbay for news of her recovery.

"I see you're up and at it," the tall man – Victor Fisker – eventually said, contented to see their team supervisor out of recuperation.

Victor was one of five best geneticists in Iria's unit of twelve, thirty-four and with a bad custom of chewing a toothpick to kick off his old smoking habit. His dirty blond hair had grown a little since his flattop haircut from his lovely wife months ago. Although laid-back most of the time, he was excellent in his good memory and precision, the good points that got him the occupation in Cape Inacio.

Right away, Iria became aware of the scientists' presence. She grinned, assuring them she was fine. The foursome then strolled down the empty and long hallway together.

"Okay, that seriously screwed up," the twenty-five year old man with his rusty red curls under the cap retorted. "We should have used the sedatives if we had known that would've happened."

Samson "Sam" O'Leary, a biochemist, always thought negative and preferred to act first. In his youthful days, he was quarterback of his football team and given a scholarship at his high school graduation. Surprisingly, it landed him to work in the study of chemistry in living organisms and more surprisingly, he did a fine job at it.

"Sam's right," an African American woman with dreadlocks draping over her back, Kailey Bernard, spoke out uneasily. "Why didn't you anaesthetize him?"

She was an analyst in synthetic biology, a year younger than Iria. Years ago, she used to work in a crime scene investigation squad for the LAPD, analyzing DNA but found the occupation too pressured. A career in the facility to escape the earshot of the worst kind in humanity – from psychopathic serial killers to children rapists – and work among both good companions and unsurpassed researchers relieved her.

Until she and many people like Victor, Samson and Iria discovered an awful reality for their employment years ago.

"You were thinking the tranquillizers would affect him, right?" questioned Samson. "He's a Tyrant, not an Erinye."

"Yes, I know," Iria answered. "But we wouldn't want to take the chance now would we?"

"That's our Big Sister Ai," Victor chuckled. "Thinking before leaping."

Their own footsteps boomed throughout the corridor. Iria's quietness notified the three that a thought overpowered her mind because usually, she would holler angrily at the nickname.

Kailey cocked up an eyebrow, crossed at the silence treatment. "Oy, Iria, what's on your mind?"

"It's kind of puzzling."

"What is?"

"His body should have rejected completely of any trace of the mutation."

"Yeah, a real surprise he changed into a Tyrant," Victor affirmed.

"That's just it. He shouldn't have changed a second time. The T-Veronica Virus must have something to do with his changes. I wonder if his body was triggered by something."

"And you want me to check how his chemistry goes tick tock. No way, no how am I going near that thing. He'll rip my head off!" Samson cried out.

"You won't need to. I think we should hold back conducts until Steve has calmed down. Where has he been taken?"

"The kid was put at Level Red-Zone 11 by the security."

"What?" she blurted out loud, her disbelief reacting to Victor's notice.

"What did you expect? He tried to hang you up like a puppet," said Kailey. "That kind of strength is particularly scary. He might be more dangerous than specimen T-83 and Cronus T-Type put together."

_Oh, what a bother those guards are... _Now she wished she had asked for an aspirin from Robert before she left.

It was so frustrating that the security to take charge whenever there was a calamity. Nobody liked most of the men in black armoured suits and lethal weapons at their support, changing every opportunity that got in their way, especially when they did a direct instruction without Iria's approval.

They were, to every specialist, a nuisance, even if their squad was for the wellbeing of her employees.

"Let's go," she grumbled and headed to the elevator.

The Cape Inaico facility had thirteen levels in total and was divided into two sections, highlighted in 'Red zones' and 'Blue zones'. From Level 1 to 5, the Blue Zone served as a paradisiacal safe area for the scientists – laboratories holding state-of-the-art equipment, a large cafeteria, a library, a observatory, cosy dormitories for those too sleepy to return to their homes and much more to keep the working physicians entertained physically and mentally.

The Red Zone was the danger zone. Only accessible through a series of handprint identification devices, passwords and ID card scanners, it was a zoo of the infected.

Creatures contaminated with the many viruses were locked up down there. Every variety dwelled behind unbreakable walls, most of the number behaving as wild as caged up beasts yearning for freedom and the taste for blood. The monsters were ranked by the levels they were sited. Level 6 enclosed the harmless living samples, Level 9 had the somewhat harmful creatures and towards 13 were the deadliest fiends, B. and Tyrants.

On a scale from one to ten, Level 13 was the worse. Nightmares beyond anyone's imagination lurked in the level. The only people to have admittance there were Iria, Wesker and the chief of security, Ian Odell.

The zone was very treacherous. At all cost, both scientist and officer had to be on their guard whenever they stepped foot in Level 6 onwards. Sometimes, however, the carelessness was inescapable.

The death rate per year was three to fifteen, caused by severe damage, contact with a virus or just plain stupidity.

The breakout of an infected specimen was absolutely rare. Interior defence was at its highest, ranging from androids programmed to annihilate only the fugitive specimens to automotive lockdowns. Not one single undead or mutated monster could ever reach the Blue Zone without being annihilated. Once the threat was eliminated, it was hurled into a containment room for the virus to perish by UV radiation and next, the host smouldered to ashes.

With the increasing number of specimens delivered to Cape Inaico, the construction of a Red-Zone solitary facility was in order next door. By next month, it will be complete, a passage connecting the main structure to the private block.

Like they needed more, Iria thought. The work just kept piling up.

**DING!** The small group exited the lift once they reached Level 11.

"Are you sure about this? Maybe someone should take your place," Samson suggested.

"No, I have to do this myself. I need to clear things with him," Iria declared. "Besides, if we leave it at that, he might detach his human side and go savage on everyone else."

Samson and Kailey shivered at the frightful contemplation, recalling the razor sharp claws, immense muscles and the blood-red glare. Victor nonetheless depicted the phrase 'everything will be fine' through his composed face while he nibbled the end of his toothpick.

"He's only a kid. He needs to know he's in no danger with us."

"Maybe he already knows and you don't need to see him," Samson droned fretfully and received an infuriated glare from Kailey.

They approached the cell Iria was told the frog monster was padlocked. Predictably, two security officers guarded the door.

The four scientists flashed up their ID cards for classification.

"I would like to see him," she ordered.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Mclenlan. But we have been ordered to allow no one to enter."

_Typical. They are always a pain in the neck._

"Then tell your superior that the order has been declined and you have been reify of duty."

"But you can't-"

"I am the head scientist of this facility and I will do whatever I like. If you think this is unreasonable, then I suggest you make a complaint to the higher authority here."

The tense could effortlessly be seen in the officers' shoulders. They could not fire back with another tongue-sharp remark and thus, they submitted to defeat.

The higher authority in the facility was not the company who built and funded the facility from the outside world or their chief of security somewhere in the building. The person with the power to discard safeguard orders was standing in front of them, patiently waiting to be let through.

Samson snickered wickedly as they backed around from the door, never weary of Iria's power and role as a person in command.

The head scientist tapped her card on a scanner without hesitation.

"Input password," a computerized feminine voice inquired from the scanner.

"Mclenlan. Number S24D1-45O5 X-3781. Password, 91NN19."

"Access granted."

A hissing click resonated and the door slid open.

"Be careful, Iria," Kailey cautioned her.

Iria gave a promising smile and sauntered causally, – the door shutting behind her – expecting it would probably start off trouble-free but when she glanced up at the resident of the cell, Iria could not help but be stunned.

On the cold concrete sat the green monster, the red angry stare fastened on the head scientist. At least that told Iria he hadn't forgotten about her.

His monstrous hands were handcuffed in a box-shaped contraption. Another device enclosed his mouth, no doubt the worry of him biting. Electric lasers barricaded in a 3 feet range, shot from small surveillance robots in the ceiling.

The officers wanted to take no chances. They could have almost thrown in a moat filled with gators.

_Okay, this is ridiculous... Might as well get over with this._

His crimson orbs never left her. Steve had undoubtedly not forgotten her.

Before, he had not fully seen the woman from shoulders down to feet. Now, he saw her whole picture – wearing a lab coat with rolled up sleeves, Bermuda pants and sneakers boots. But one thing that caught his attention the most was the atypical detail on her left arm. A black tattoo stretched from her shoulder down to the middle of her lower arm. The top piece was concealed by the sleeve while the rest bore a riddling illustration.

Great, she must have been a convict, he thought.

Steve became more hostile. He was trapped, the people here had to be working with Umbrella and sure enough, they were going to use him as a test subject. He couldn't trust anyone, not even the woman who stood before him.

The woman's right hand reached down to an odd gun at her hip. He growled angrily, the mouth device muffling it.

The blonde simply discounted his threatening call, her serenity staring back.

He gave a mental laugh, knowing she was hiding her fear. She was here to take aim and shoot him in the head or heart for assailing her.

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Iria clicked off the holster and Taser from her belt and leisurely plopped it on a bench attached to the wall.

His head bobbed up, startled of her action. However, Steve grunted vigilantly and retreated back to his aggression. He couldn't let her get to him.

It was a trick. That was the only reason why she'd do that.

"G.A.I.A., deactivate laser system in Cell 6-453."

"Affirmative." The computerized voice uttered above them, from a ceiling absent of speakers. "Number S24D1-45O5 X-3781, voice-command accepted."

The electric-barricaded lasers shut down and disappeared into the walls.

Iria held up her ID card once more and swiftly swung it across a pod-like scanner mounted on the wall. It inspected her card as quick as lighting and transmitted a signal directed from its microchip to the mechanisms on Steve's hands and jaws.

**CLICK-CLICK!**

The gadgets unlocked and dropped to the floor with two loud thuds, resounding throughout the cell.

Steve's mouth fell ajar. He was out of those miserable thingamabobs!

He stared down at his hands and attempted to rub the red-ringed strain around his wrist.

His horrible green claws.

His stomach turned in knots. He felt revolted at what the rest of his body looked like. He had some ideas but abandoned them, too aghast to put them to the test. Then again, he had no clue to why he changed the second time. He had suddenly became outraged and taken it out on the closest thing he could grab.

No wonder Claire would be terrified of him back at the island. If he had seen his reflection in a mirror, he would terrify himself out of his own green skin!

That crazy bitch, Alexia Ashford. It was all her entire fault! Thanks to her, he was a monster again and stuck in this facility. He hoped the she-devil was barbecuing in hell.

Claire, he still wondered where she was. Possibly she was safe and sound with her brother and the promise between them was kept.

Steve glanced up hastily, once realizing he had just become exposed. But the woman stayed where she stood, not budging an inch. The weapon was arm-length from her but she showed no interest in retrieving it.

The unarmed head scientist continued watching Steve, not at all with curiosity or pity.

What could she be trying to pull? Steve wondered if she had an electric cattle prod hidden in her coat.

Then out of the blue, she made her move.

"I'm sorry."

That caught Steve by complete astonishment. Why was she talking to him? Shouldn't she be viewing him as what he was inside the cell, a monster?

"I shouldn't have put you in that situation. You can blame it all on protocol. And never should my colleagues have taken you down like that. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. That is why I'm very sorry."

Steve lodged in zipped bewilderment but turned away.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"Why shouuuld I?" What that his voice, he thought. He sounded so different. "...You'rrre one of them, arrren't you?"

Iria looked puzzled, was he referring to Umbrella?

"What I say is true. I understand-"

"I don't need yourrr sympathy!" he roared.

She predicted his denial but was grateful that Steve didn't decide to slam her to the floor. Iria remained unshaken by his full volume, years of hearing savage screams shriek at her taught her to bottle up the cowardice.

"You don't! You have no idea what I've been thrrrough! I am a frrreak!" he yelled and grinded his teeth furiously. "What a jokeee my life hasss turned out to be! You should haveee left me deeead! I neeever asked for this! Why did you brrring me back?!"

The serenity disappeared from her face, an angered frown substituting it.

"Why is this happening to meee?" he begged, burying his face.

"Fine." She reached for her weapon – gun and holster – and strode towards him. "See yourself as a monster."

Steve trembled a little in his seat. However, he had no desire to fight against the prepared lady to protect his second life.

"Keep saying that you shouldn't be alive."

This nightmare should end right now.

"But know this," she began and lifted her Taser up high.

**BAM!**

"Ow! Gaaargh!" Steve whined, his hands quickly contacting to a throbbing sore on his head. He couldn't believe she would use the handle of her own firearm as a baton, never imagined it could be used that way either.

"All I see is a scared boy right in front of me!"

Her fuming words dumbfounded him and the temper flaring in her frightened him.

He had pissed off the blonde.

"I didn't come here to give sympathy and definitely not to turn you into a lab rat! I came here because I chose to. I came here to say sorry for everything! And I didn't come to see a freak show, I came to meet a man named Steve presently! Even my trusted team chose to help you when they could have refused at anytime. We chose to save your life! We chose to give you a second chance that you just want to throw out of the window!"

Steve was baffled, taken entirely by her out-spoken speech.

"Listen carefully, you brat! We chose to do all that because you are important as a person. Right now, right where you are standing," she explained, her rage gradually settling down. "You're important in someone else's life."

He gaped silently. Importance in one's life never occurred to him till now.

Was that one's life Claire's?

"You can give me the cold shoulder or accept the fact that I'm here. But my choice has already been made the moment you came here. That I am not turning my back on you, no matter how many times you try to push me away," Iria debated. "It's far too early to call it quits."

"...Why...arrre you doing this? I'm...just a mindless freak," he said.

"Who has called you that? Certainly not from me! And how can you call yourself mindless when you're particularly talking to me? Exactly where is the line of being a beast or being a person?" she snapped crossly.

"...B-Buuut-"

She groaned irritably at his uncertainty. "God, are you dense? Haven't you figured it out? It's all for your sake."

Silence conquered the cell. No comments could be told back to the valiant smile written on her face. Nothing could be said in opposition to her words, not his freakishness or his refusal on second chances.

Because what she said made him feel worthy.

"You arrre...a weirrrd lady..."

Iria sighed evenly with a gentle smile. "Yup, that's what a lot of people tell me."

A tear streamed down into his weak grin, a disfigured hand covering the beginning of his shameful crying. Gladness, distress and amusement blended together inside of him. He was cheered up and yet he still quivered, laughing softly to himself.

He didn't want to start the emotional breakdown in front of the blonde and have to weep over her shoulder for comfort. He was a man – in a monster's clothing. Men shouldn't be crying.

He guessed he wasn't going to face Death anytime soon.

Iria pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket. It was silly of him, trying to hide his cluster of emotions from her but she respected that it was for his dignity.

Kneeling down before the green frog monster, she wiped off the first two fallen tears as Steve tried to hold back the rest.

"Alright, now that this whole thing is behind us, how about moving you to a nicer room? One without the lasers and captivity gizmos," said Iria. "Then I'll ask the cafeteria chef to cook up something good for you. Trust me on the food they feed you down here. You won't like it one bit."

The sobbing stopped with a loud chuckle. Good, he found it humorous.

Yet, his hilarity vanished at a glimpse of the bandages around her neck. Her hair had been let down and the injury was hidden underneath until he was close enough to see.

"Did I...do thaaat to you...?"

He bit his lower lip, remembering the closest thing he had clutched hold was her throat.

"I'm sorrry," he apologized.

"It's alright. I'd probably deserved it for putting you through that procedure."

"I could have-"

"You didn't," Iria stated as swift as the wind. "You could have done more damage but you didn't. That's all that matters."

It didn't make him feel any easier. He almost squeezed the life out of the head scientist without knowing. He had tried to slaughter Claire back in Antarctica.

The beast in him was let out twice.

"Let's start over," the head scientist suggested. "We had a bad start earlier. But you'll feel a lot better if we reintroduce ourselves. Sounds good?"

He blinked several times and then nodded. "Yeah. I'd likeee that."

"Well, I already know your name, kiddo. But it's a pleasure to meet you, Steve."

"The sameee to you," said Steve. "I guess I should call you Doctorrr then."

"Wrong," she booed. Offended, she lightly knocked the holster at his forehead. "Call me Iria. 'Doctor' is too professional for my taste. Address it to someone who cares."

He rubbed his forehead, amused of her unusual sense of humour. She was indeed a curious character but at least one he could begin to trust.

Steve was going to be fine.

"Looks like this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, kiddo," Iria exclaimed, again grinning optimistically.

He smiled, a little scrawny but mostly pleased.

"Thank you, Irrria."

* * *

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**Authoress:** Herrrrre's the first chp :D Took me a while (and a bit of my time to do homework) to come up with this.

I hope you find my heroine character interesting (and not Mary-Sue cuz hell, I'll kill myself if she was!). She is kinda like Gil Grissom from CSI since she is, besides head scientist, a supervisor of her own team in researching the viruses.

She has no fighting experience whatsoever but further into the fanfic, she will have to use her wits to fight against the undead coming soon.

In this fic, it's brain versus brawn, not the usually brute force against brute force here. It's a different approach. Normally, it's the smart guys die quickly in RE and guys with guns shoot. Here, it's the smart people's turn to fight.

The whole scent-triggering-memory experience is a true thing, even though it's still being solved by our scientists of today. The unexpected re-encounter from a scent is called Proustian Memory. Iria used this theory to bring out Steve's memories to indicate he's not brain-dead or lost in remembering.

Also, all scientists in the facility carry Taser guns (not the small ones you carry in purses, they are the big guns used by police forces and military) as a precaution against specimens without destroying them. If not, their research would go down the drain. They are nerds who need weapons, y'know.

Iria, Samson, Kailey: WHAT?! NERDS?!

-shrugs shoulders- In overall, this chp was slightly challenging but it was worth it. Hopefully, this is alright (maybe with some grammars and all). Now Steve's not alone, with Iria and her team of eleven watching his back. It will be a while until I write about the outbreak but it will be exciting with her and the others, now that they have someone unique going to be part of the family. Note that not everyone is thrilled with Steve, some security guards and some greedy scientists that I plan to have karma go at them.

Also, I'd like to say that each chp I write, I'll put a character bio, staring with Iria.

-

_**Iria Mclenlan**_

_**Age:**_** 38**

_**Occupation: **_**Head Scientist of Cape Inaico Facility**

_**Height:**_** 5'5"**

_**Weight:**_** 113 lbs**

_**Blood Type:**_** B**

_**Background:**_** Iria is the day shift supervisor for a team she created mainly to run away from her desk work. She is a devoted person who looks out for everyone, given the nickname "Big Sister Ai", which also makes her feel relatively old every time her colleagues call her that. She is a strong believer in second chances but never in thirds. Iria is at war with Wesker professionally as he has her and the scientists in a trap and is looking for a solution to break free without attracting his attention by all means necessary. Intelligence is her key tool through surviving the stress of a head scientist, as well as procedures on studying specimens at close range, ensuring safety of others comes first.**

**- **

You will learn about her history later and who Hannah and Rick (hint: they're blood-related). Right now, I wanna torment her with the stress she gets every day in the upcoming chps. XD Like I said before, she's the comic relief and also a fighter to boot.

I hope you enjoy this chp and I expect reviews! –grins- See ya at the next chp!

P.S. I didn't fully check over for mistakes cause it was so late but I'll do that tomorrow and update this chp. Thank you very much for reading this. :D** (EDIT AGAIN & AGAIN)**


	3. Only the Start of the Day

Disclaimer:_ I do not own any Resident Evil characters but I do own the head scientist mentioned here, Project N-Thanatos, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps._

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_By Vickie_

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* * *

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**CHAPTER TWO**

CAPE Inacio slept in the rocking of the ocean's soft lullaby, the chilly wind rattling through the palm trees. Beneath the starless night, the inhabitants curled up in their beds, undisturbed by the chattering sounds of the native insects whilst the cool evening air blanketed over their houses. An island untouched by the angry world outside, but unknown to the naïve islanders as they lied slumbering, the ugly and dangerous reality under the sea hid near to the island's shores.

Sunrise approached, its rays triumphing the night. The brilliant magnificence roused life on the island to open their eyes and rub the dust out of their eyes.

For one human, living in a bungalow amid the glamorous jungle and sparkling white pristine beach, it was a slow nudge to wake up.

As the sunlight streamed though into the bedroom, she tossed and turned and wrapped her head under her quilt.

_It's too early..._

Needless to say, the premature morning persuaded her to come round. The hands of the alarm clock inches from her bed struck the six-digit and horned out the knocking of bells. The first ring, a hand slapped its snooze button. The second, it pounded hard on the clock. And the third time-

-the clock got hurled out of the open window.

That would make the fifth one she had broken this year but she didn't care, unable to reclaim back her slumberland. She sat up and tasted the dry foul zest in her mouth.

This was the dawn of yet another normal day for Iria Mclenlan.

"I hate mornings..." the head scientist groaned.

6: 30 AM – Wake up and get ready for work.

The woman slugged out of bed and walked to the bathroom down the hall, her feet dragging across the wooden floorboards. Chunking her toothbrush oozing with too much toothpaste into her mouth, she glanced up to the mirror groggily. Her blond hair was entangled beyond straightness. The clothes she wore yesterday under her robe were wrinkled; too dead beat to take them off the pervious night.

Last night had taken most of her and the team's energy, overworking on the T-Veronica virus from the CD. Demanded by several of the scientists a rank below her status to discover its full potential, the understanding of the virus had to be built from scratch as some of the data from the South Pole facility was destroyed.

Iria was sure she will be pushed into an early grave. She grimly needed a vacation. Better yet, just one sick day would be nice.

She laid her head on the mirror and tried to get a few more Zs but the noise of pans clanking and the aroma of something frying stole the moment. Toothbrush still in mouth, she strolled to the kitchen where the sounds and smells were.

A young boy was cooking scrambled eggs for himself. He was immune to the sleepy bug, with green eyes wide open and a deserved combing of his brown-black hair.

"Mommph, Rrmm..."

He looked over his shoulder and saw the woman lean against the wall. If she stayed there a little longer, she would have slid down and banged her head to the floor.

"Morning, Aunt Iria," Rick Evans greeted.

Rick was her fifteen-year-old nephew, seemingly the only one taking responsibilities in the household. With Iria gone to work for most of the day, he took care of simple housework and cooking meals. It never troubled him doing something to lighten the burden off his aunt's shoulders.

Iria went to the sink, rinsed her mouth and then sat at the kitchen table. Hot steaming tea in her favourite mug displaying the words 'I heart NY,' was served in front of her.

"Thank God for the invention of tea," Iria moaned and took a sip of the brown elixir. "So have you finished your school project?"

"I told you already. I completed it three days ago."

"Oh, yeah, sorry... Did you get a good grade on it anyway?"

"Yeah. B minus."

"That's good to hear."

Rick looked up at the kitchen clock. She had to leave in about fifteen minutes.

"Better eat something. You've got to leave soon."

"I don't wanna go... I wanna sleep..." she whined, buried her face into the tablecloth.

The boy raised up an unimpressed eyebrow. "Are you sure you should be showing off that freelancer attitude towards your job? You're a botanist, remember?"

She gave an aimless stare, frowning. In her line of work, it was policy to keep sealed lips. Only the supervisors and employees knew what in actual fact was going on in the facility. It had to be known as non-existent to the government and any rival companies, including Umbrella Corporation. In assurance that no one discovered its existence, no families and friends must know the secret.

Thus it gave birth to the nine-year-old lie that she and the scientists were botanists researching on a resident plant – a boring and unattractive job life that no suspicious characters would be attracted to.

And it was for another reason.

The safety of their loved ones.

She sighed. She even had to lie to her own family about her neck injury, saying she had slipped and fell with a vine in the way.

_When will the lies end...?_

"Aunt Iria?"

She moaned drowsily. "I don't really care. I came back at 3 in the morning and only got four bloody hours of sleep."

**Creeeaaak!**

A young girl, much older than Rick, flung her bedroom door labeled with 'Keep Out' and 'Don't Enter' signs open and exited slothfully out. Just like Iria, her short blond hair - the ends highlighted with orange - reaching down her neck, was enmeshed but the answer of a hair straighter would later solve that problem.

"Morning, Han-"

A gray glare - colder than the morning breeze - shot straight at the woman, giving no mercy to finish her sentence. Dreaded with little sleep but mostly irritation at Iria, the young girl grabbed a bowl of cereal and withdrew to her room in solitary.

The thirty-eight-year-old woman felt like crying inside of her.

"Sheez, the least she could do is say "Good Morning" to us," snapped Rick.

"It's alright. Leave her be. Every girl goes through this phase at that age."

"Phase?"

"It's better if you don't know much about it."

Her nephew looked at her utterly confused but shrugged his shoulders and dropped the subject at that. Iria brought her gaze to the kitchen clock, thinking to herself how irksome the minutes were as they ridiculed at her to get going.

There was indeed no rest for the boss.

"Well, I should be getting to work..." She got off her seat and half-asleep, staggered to the front door.

"Aunt Iria, your clothes."

A rather near-fatal flaw to start off the morning.

She thanked Rick for pointing the small detail that his aunt was about to go off barefoot with creased clothing beneath her bathrobe, and went back to the bathroom to change into a fresh clean set of clothes. With her spectacles on, Iria headed for the front door again, ready to look right in the eye of her day.

"Aunt Iria, your breakfast."

Much to her stupor, she was still holding her mug of half-drank tea. She marched right back to the kitchen. Too weary to take a bowl out and such little time to spare, she dumped cereal flakes into her drink.

She gathered up her bravery and swallowed the unusual lukewarm blend in big chunky gulps.

"Bleeeagh!" A disgusting taste like that would forever haunt her for the rest of her life but she also didn't care.

She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to shove the horrible tang out of her system. Once the ordeal was done, she banged her mug onto the table and grabbed her bag lying on the counter.

"Okay, now I'm ready," she exclaimed loudly. "See you two round ten."

"Bye."

The front door banged open and close. Outside, the engine of her Hummer roared before the wheels rolled up the dirt road. Rick watched as his aunt's vehicle disappeared into the forest, heading towards the east coast.

Frankly, the time of her arrival back home was never accurate. She would come back past midnight or not at all. After given the high status three years ago, quality time with the whole family have been snatched from Iria, no matter how hard she frantically tried to make.

He forgave her for missing the days when the dinner he made turned cold or when he had eventful school activities. More or less, it was fine to have no guardian in the house, not that he had ever got into trouble or try to burn down their home. Those were above all – except arson attempt – done by the girl who was now eating breakfast in her room with music booming from her stereo.

He just found Iria's approach to work so amateurish.

Those who rely on such a person were so unfortunate, he thought to himself as he picked up the dishes and washed them before he went to school for an early start.

* * *

"ACHOO!"

Steve sniffled, stirring from his sleep. The sneeze came out very sudden, perhaps from the itchy ambiance of his new cell.

_Or maybe someone's thinking about me. Who knows..._

Two days has passed since his awakening from his coma and second transformation. And much to his dismay and shock, he had been told he was out for two years, with machines helping to continue life until he was revived.

How he was rejuvenated, Iria wouldn't and couldn't say.

Two years of his life was gone.

Steve let out his anger again, taking it out on the bench in his old cell and flung it brutally at the surveillance cameras above. But this time, he didn't use the full extent of his fury. The blonde was there, unmoved by his rage and even ordered the guards outside not to interfere when he began swapping the cameras like flies.

In time, noticing the head scientist was undaunted by his fierce reactions, he tried to calm himself down, collapsing on his knees as Iria comforted him with the words, "everything would be alright."

What was more, her weariness told him mutely she knew beyond doubt what it meant to lose a couple of years.

"...Maybeee...it will go uphill from herrre," was what he had said, such a tiny optimism barely tainting his hoarse voice. And she agreed with a perked-up smile.

As much as Iria could do, she tried to move him to a better location, one with maybe a bed and some amenities. But because of his two outbursts and sudden mutation, Chief Ian Odell, head of security, refused to have a Tyrant like him have a room in the Blue Zone but allowed him to stay in Level 7.

Iria was hopping mad. In her debate, Steve was a bright nineteen-year-old teenager trapped in a different body, being treated nothing more than an animal. In the chief's defence, Tyrants could be capable of being smarter and crafty, clever at pulling surprises.

That was final. A scream of the phrase, "Dammit! You obnoxious geezer!" and a storm out of his headquarters ended the discussion.

So Steve was moved to a slightly-better cell, even though she felt she could have done more. The room was not much different than his pervious one, just lacking the cameras and defensive weaponry behind the walls.

For forty-eight hours, it was nothing much. It was just sleep and eat, nothing to entertain him except a book the head scientist had given to him to pass the time. Iria was able to bring down some blankets and pillows for a makeshift bed at the corner and food that should have been consumed by some normal person at the cafeteria.

She had done so much to help him and he could never stop thanking her.

It felt somewhat extraterrestrial to him, a large green monster like him given things he had when he was seventeen and normal. Back then, he took them for granted but now as he laid in the cotton warmth, he was indebted that he could feel a little more human. Because there was the irksome fear he could yet again lose himself to the beast inside of him.

The thought terrified him very much but luckily, something was keeping his humanity in check.

Steve closed his blood-red eyes and in time, went back to sleep for another two or three hours.

* * *

7: 00 AM – Arrive at facility.

Iria drove down the dirt path. She was still drowsy to stop and admire the wild lush nature engulfed with the ceaseless lyrics of birds in the canopy. The rumbling noise from the engine had no effect to agitate the untamed landscape.

Many of the island dwellers resided near the coastline so the jungle remained unscathed. The green geological terrain had its way of forcing them out if they walked on foot, making several unlucky backpackers lost for days. Nobody from the west coast could possibly find the protected area, except the scientists for a labyrinth of roads led to pointless destinations on the isle and only one route was the right pathway.

She had to memorize the series of left, right, right and left again. It wasn't long before the Hummer manoeuvred out of the wooded area into the open where the confined electrical barriers and watchtowers stood clearly into view.

The officers with their big guns never made her feel calm. There was always the nagging thought they would take aim and fire metal-piercing bullets at the vehicle unnecessarily.

She showed the officers at the main gate her ID card and steered her vehicle into a built-in carpark inside the perimeter. Once she parked it far from the watchtowers and hit the button of her car keychain, she strolled into a small building block and down a set of stairs.

It was in fact a train station concealed underground from the outer world, with an undersea tunnel as its course.

The only transport to get to the underwater facility.

After going through the same custom of tapping her card and indicating her arrival to a set of scanners, Iria hurried to the high-speed monorail before the screeching announcement of its departure amplified over the speakers.

She sat down and tried to get back her forty winks. The train was completely empty, running automatically on the railway. It was still in the early hours for the majority of workforce to arrive so there was no one to bother her before the ride across the seabed was over.

"Morning, Big Sister Ai."

Well, almost no one.

Victor chewed the toothpick's end with a hearty smile at his supervisor and sat down beside her. "I don't suppose you've tried coffee or modafinil instead."

"Excuse me but that black stuff can cause heartburn, Bowel Syndrome and what other dreadful conditions. I'd rather take a decent cup of tea over that degraded drink. And the alleged ultimate wake-up pill doesn't help either."

Yep, he thought with a grin, she did have crankiness around seven.

"Don't tell me you use mondafinil for the morning?" she asked resignedly.

"Nope, not really, just the regular wake up early and get ice cream for my lovely wife. I keep thinking that little one of mine is like a ticking alarm clock."

"Speaking of which, how much more before the due day?"

"Oh, about a month. We've haven't thought of the right name yet."

"Don't worry about it too much. One month isn't bad, Victor. You and Nirvana will definitely find a good one by then."

"Yeah, hopefully." He flicked his bitten toothpick away as the monorail slowly came to a stop. "Well, onto business as usual. From the data we examined, the T-Veronica Virus is an improved version of the T-Virus. Under the right conditions, it allows the host to retain full intellectual capabilities, without losing higher brain functions."

"That much we know. Then again, it does explain why Steve still retains his human consciousness. Anything else?" she asked as they got off the monorail.

"Well, the viral agent seems to include the Progenitor Virus combined with another found in an unknown gene but because of how destroyed the data was, I couldn't find out what gene."

They reached the main entrance and started off with the second part of the security system: a handprint and iris identification reading scanner fixed next to bullet-proof, indestructible, solid thick doors.

Iria was the first to go, placing her right hand on a small red grid plane.

"Handprint recognition complete," the computerized voice of G.A.I.A. announced.

Next was the scanning of one green iris at the small photographic equipment that sent a harmless blue laser to scrutinize the differentiated muscles and pigmentation in her eye.

"Iris check complete. Scan in ID card and input password."

While Victor did his recognition with his palms and eyes, Iria held up her card to the complicated scanner and spoke out loudly, "Mclenlan. Number S24D1-45O5 X-3781. Password, 91NN19."

"Fisker. Number B54T8-23I4 Z-6523. Password, Osborne71266."

"Access granted. Welcome, Doctor Mclenlan and Doctor Fisker. Main gate opening."

With a loud droning noise, the doors opened mechanically and gradually as if presenting a fantastic sci-fi entry for those worthy to enter.

"I never get tried of that." Victor chuckled. Iria merely rolled her eyes and they stepped into Blue Zone 1. "As I was saying, we don't have enough to fully identify this new strand of virus. Only that it's transferable by injection, a combination of the first virus and a rare one and that it was created by a woman named Alexia Ashford."

"Ashford?"

"You know the name?"

"Not really. It sounds familiar...but it's probably nothing. In any case, we should keep on checking the CD. Maybe we might have missed something."

"Yeah, but there's just not enough data to make a new file out of it. And you and I both know those babblemouths are going to be harassing you to continue examinations on the kid. "

She stopped in her tracks, exhausting out a grave sigh. Since Steve's initiation, some of her staff had been pestering her to research on his structure, internally and externally. They saw him as an opportunity to raise their positions and fill up bank accounts. The moment she cut off any tests was the moment they believed she was mocking them with her glorified prominence and fortunate. But money or the possibility to rise higher than head scientist was never her interest.

Two days and surely, it wasn't enough for Steve to rest. He needed more time to feel all right.

"Dammit, those guys are just cruel," she mumbled.

"Tell me about it. Wished they were transferred some other facility. Maybe off this planet."

"That would be very problematic for any life form up there." They chuckled together, at the thought of certain shifty researchers being beheaded by Predators or dissolved by Aliens, both thrown out from the movies.

"So what you plan to do?"

She gave it some thought. "Give him another day. I'll ask him if it's alright to do the tests then. After all, he is nineteen and old enough to give his consent on medical matters."

"Yup, the kid before the goal... And Mr. Wesker?"

"Knows nothing about his revival until I tell him. He'll only come to this facility when I 'do get the chance' to inform him."

Victor laughed. "I always like your compassion for others. Without you, this place would probably be plain boring around here."

"Let's hope it doesn't go any other way," she said, arriving at her office. "Report to me if there's anything else you can get out of the disk."

"Will do," uttered Victor and paced off to the DNA-analyzing lab in Blue Zone 3.

Iria smiled, watching him wave a hand. What would she do without her team and the same went for what would they do without her...

Her office door slid open and just as she walked in, she glanced at the scene in front of her, her gladness instantly washed by displeasure. Just one sight at the interior was enough to take it away spontaneously.

7: 15 AM – Finish evaluations and reports on current specimens.

From the day she left her title as a virologist to the high chair, it was a boring desk job for her: getting accounts about the infected specimens and approving the data written by employees, deciding on obligations that ran the place, writing evaluations of her staff and so on and so forth.

It also demanded some of her free time and neatness.

Piles of paperwork untidily stacked on her metal desk, leather chair and floor. Volumes on life studies such as microbiology and pathology had been taken off their shelves and misplaced about the room. The bin was drowning under crushed paper balls. The phone and computer was concealed somewhere under the disorder, which honestly, she had used once in a blue moon.

A new derisive heap was noticeably smashed between the old ones, ready for her to seize a pen and start reading them through.

She checked her watch, then looked at the papers on her desk in total silence.

Iria was the kind of person to be in the field or the lab, not inscribing all day through documents. Long-term damage deforming her backbone would be the result if she did so. She preferred her hands on a microscope or walking about with her co-workers, not on those white manuscripts and their comprehensive gibberish in the cold loneliness.

With that, she left her office, the mess still as it was.

That was one of the many reasons she created her own unit: to run far, far away from the desk work.

* * *

12: 30 AM – Meet the kiddo and have a nice chat with him.

"Hallooooo, Stevie!"

Brightening up the tedious, cold and dark cell was the head scientist's immediate cheeriness as she walked in. It was a mystery to him, why she would approach him with such a big smile. He wondered if she had dosed herself with some happy drug.

She put her bag and Taser in holster down on the bench. "I hope you had a better sleep than I did."

But her visits for the past two days were another thing that made him feel more human.

"Morrrning, Doc," he greeted. "You come here verrry often, y'know."

"Aw, can't I be visiting my favourite person?"

"When did I becomeee your favourite?"

"Since I first met you."

"Arrren't you supposed to be doing 'boss things'?" he asked, cocking up an eyebrow.

"Nah, I'm not the type to be sitting on my ass all day working at the desk. Besides, I'll get someone to cover up for me."

Namely, some poor victim from her staff to do the work for her.

"You'rrre awfully carefrrree."

"Yep, I am, aren't I?" She fished out a large plastic container and a flask from the bag. A rich appetizing aroma steamed from them, even if they were sealed tight.

He had been told that his sense of smell and hearing had heightened to a degree, an additional by-product of his mutation. His field of vision was still the same except everything he saw was red, including Iria who now handed him the container.

They were some of the good points, including that he felt stronger.

"Barbecue chicken and cheddar sandwiches, no pickles. Toasted and no crust."

"Could youuu say thanks to yourrr cook?"

"Of course," said Iria. "He'll be happy to hear that. At least there's somebody in this facility who appreciates his cooking."

With that, he took off the cover and wolfed down the twelve pieces of sandwiches. His appetite had also been increased four times that of a normal person. During his coma, he had only been fed a measly amount of liquid food through a tube, which may have been why he was ravenous. His exaggerated hunger surprised Iria on the first day that she had to make two trips to the cafeteria with dinner on the menu, Penne pasta with spinach and bacon.

Thankfully, he didn't develop a craving for raw human flesh.

Iria giggled at the reflection that he was undeniably a growing boy – despite hugely muscled and green – but one attentive glance at his altered body accounted to her curiosity.

It was not obvious at first. There was a noticeable change that simply seemed baffling to her. His frog-green coloration was starting to saturate monotonously and his colossal muscles had shrunk to some point. Oddly enough, his claws and the bone spurs on his left shoulder looked blunt.

_Could it be his mutation is reversing?_

That sounded impossible. Mutations can't go off and on like a switch but she wondered...

"This is just a thought..." she blurted out. "But I think there's a chance you could change back."

"What?!" Steve bolted up, small chewed chunks accidentally sprayed out.

"Whoa, slow down, kiddo," she uttered. "I don't want to get your hopes too high. It's just I've noticed something about you."

"My really big size and disgusting grrreen scales?" he grunted.

"No, not really. It's just...how should I say this? You seem a little less in size than you were two days ago."

He had noticed that too. His hands were the tall tale, less deadly and greener.

Was there a small probability he could return back to his normal self? With red hair, normal eyes and averagely muscular-built body? The questions pitted in his gut.

Could he really get back the old life he had lost?

"I don't know if that's what's happening or what triggered your mutation. But that doesn't mean we won't have the answers at all."

"So, why don't you do tests now? Find out what's wrrrong with me?"

"Well then, answer this question. Would you really feel alright if you were put under a microscope right after you woke up from the coma?"

No reply.

He wouldn't be fine, being examined at every angle and needles poke into his skin. He really didn't wish to be seen as a rare prized guinea pig in everyone's eyes.

But he badly wanted to know if there was a way out of his tribulation.

"You don't need to go through that if you don't want to. And I won't force you either."

"No," he rumbled. "...I don't mind the teeests."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded. "I want to know what's wrrrong with me."

"...Alright. How about tomorrow then? And to make things smooth, I'll be the one doing the tests. I'll be super careful, 'kay?"

He joined her bright beaming smile but his eventually faded. "...Doc, is therrre a chance you can crrreate a vaccine?"

Her smirk stayed but the gratification in her eyes too weakened. The ultimate and universal principle was acknowledgeable, if there was a virus, a vaccine can neutralize it. In the history of medicine, many famous doctors produced vaccines for measles, influenza, small pox and others, revolutionizing medical science.

But it was the obstacle of constructing of the vaccine that was difficult. Only one vaccine was made to establish immunity to the T-Virus and could only be bestowed before transformation to a brainless zombified cannibal.

"Generally, I would lie and say, "Sure, 100 percent we can create a vaccine." But the truth is I'm not very sure... We don't have enough information about the T-Veronica Virus to begin working on one. Plus, most of the funding goes straight to the research on viral agents and instead of a vaccine. You could say our company is very selfish. Even if we had the resources, it would probably take maybe months to perfect it," Iria explained.

Steve's huge board shoulders sank as he stared miserably at the floor. It pained her to see him feel down in the dumps. The bad news shouldn't have been said.

_No, things __**will**__ go uphill and I'm going to make sure it goes that way._

"Stop sulking, kiddo," she burst out and placed her hands on her hips, willpower blazing in her eyes. "You'd better not be underestimating me and my team. They're the best in this facility. If there's anyone who can make a vaccine, it's sure to be us."

"...Thank you, Irrria," he said. "For everrrything..."

"It's my pleasure."

The shifting sound of the metal door distracted them from each other. It slid open but no one seemed to walk in.

"Uh...Iria?" A voice called out.

"Zach, that you?" she uttered, wondering why he was not coming in. "Did you come to see the kiddo here?"

"Sort of... There's something important you should know."

"Work related?"

"No, not really."

"Well, come in and tell me then."

"No, no! I'm fine where I am."

"...Zach?"

"Yeah, Big Sister Ai?"

"You're afraid, aren't you?"

"What? Me? Of course not. Why would you think that? I'm just admiring how lovely out here is."

"C'mere, you!" she snapped and grabbed the stranger by the collar of his white lab coat. By force, she pulled him in and the door locked behind his back. "Sooner or later, you guys will have to cough up the courage and meet him!"

Zach Torres was a man of twenty-nine, brown hair spiked backwards with gel, who specialized in microbiology and had taste in jazz and heavy metal music – supposedly to help him concentrate. He was transferred to the facility in admiration of his expertise and the actuality he had written a report on the basics of the anti-virus formulas that outstood others.

Steve hadn't met Iria's whole team yet – eleven working under her wing – no doubt still terrified of him after his misunderstood attempt to strangulate their boss.

"I'm sorry for his rudeness, Steve."

"Noneee taken." The man had every right to be fearful of his abnormality. "The truth is I'm afrrraid too..."

"See, Big Sister Ai! Even the kid here thinks that way."

"Zach...!"

The nickname and the causal way it had been said puzzled Steve. He asked in his rasping voice, "Why...do you call herrr Big Sisterrr Ai?"

"What? She hasn't told ya?"

"Zach, don't you dare-" Her threat was sadly cut short.

"Who shouldn't? This woman watches our back 24/7 like she's our own big sister. Ain't that right?" He patted her back.

She sighed irately. She didn't mind the pet name but in more ways than one, it made her utterly feeling as old as Methuselah since almost every young and elderly in her workplace addressed her by the name.

She was in her thirties for God's sake!

"Hey, kiddo. Sorry about that earlier. We can't help ourselves for being freaked. I mean, you did try to choke our boss to death."

"God, why do you still hold that up? What's past is past, okay?" she hissed. "Drop it. Now."

"See what I mean?"

"I think I geeet it."

"Oh no! Not you too!" Iria rubbed her temple, groaning at the setback. "Ugh...! What did you wanted to tell me, Zach?"

"You have a call at the administration office."

Although brought along, mobile phones were completely useless inside the facility because the signal disrupted inside the very impenetrable walls that prevented tons of water from drowning everybody within seconds. Thus, calls from the island were first sent to the administration office on the first level.

"Who's it from?"

"Oh, the police."

She raised one eyebrow. So did Steve, surprised to hear that phrase said to the head scientist.

"What do they want?" Iria asked.

"Weeeeell." Zach tried to find the right words for this, preparing to cup his ears for the outcome. He whispered close into her ear, "Hannah's in custody again."

"WHAT?!" Iria screamed, nearly scaring Steve into skipping a beat. "What in God's name did she do this time?!"

"How should I know? I'm not related," he said causally with the motion of his shoulders.

And this was how the day went. Lack of sleep, tons of documents to sign and then there was the occasional bad news from the other side of the island.

"Sorry, Steve, but I've got to leave! Oh, why does she do this to me?!"

"Therrre a prrroblem?" he asked, wondering who she was scowling about and what was done to upset her terribly.

"It will be when I deal with a certain family matter," she growled angrily. "I'll see you later!"

She raced out of his cell and hurried to catch the elevator, cursing along the way. Without the smiling blonde in the group, the noiselessness hung menacingly in the air. It gave the eerie sensation it should be disturbed and the conversation could continue.

Zach was the first to break the silence.

"Sooooo...you like music?"

* * *

Iria rode the monorail back to the isle, drove her car out of the secured area and headed to the west coast in full throttle.

West Koralo, the little sea town was some distance away from her lonely bungalow, nesting at the coast. It comprised of buildings similar as any normal town but dressed for the tropical atmosphere. Coconut drinks, floral-patterned shirts and wild Cuban music were everywhere in the settlement. The town consisted of a large port for boats to park mainly to bring in supplies, schooling for the youngsters, main streets packed with shops of sorts, homes and more for the community Iria has known for nine years.

And there was also the small law enforcement station, close to the town square.

She pulled over in front of the station and not even locking her car up, rushed inside to be greeted by the first blue-clothed police officer of the day.

"Morning, Mclenlan. Sorry to call you like this."

"Where is she?" she demanded.

The officer led the way, deep into the station. Thugs loitered behind bars, paying the price of liberty for robbery, breaking and entering and sometimes drug possession.

They stopped at one particular cell. Iria glared at its tenant furiously, her arms crossed.

"Hannah Evans!"

Uncaring eyes responded to the name, belonging to the girl inside her cell. Tight tank top, belted baggy pants and a bandana holding up most of her hair back was what the teenager wore, a Motorcross jacket lying beside her. She offered no delight at the arrival of the head scientist.

Iria's niece, soon to turn eighteen in over two months, was in jail.

"It's bad enough you skipped school again but this? What the hell did you do this time?!" shouted her aunt.

"She and other kids stole some cash and snacks from Benard's grocery store apparently," the blue officer stated.

"You **stole**?! From Mrs. Benard?!"

"So what?" Hannah spat, breaking the silence treatment. "She's just a voo-doo-crazy hag."

"That woman so happens to be the mother of one of my employees!" she yelled. Kailey wouldn't be too pleased to hear that her mother's store was robbed by Iria's own relative and a bunch of mutinous teens.

"Like I care."

"Hannah!" Iria snapped but her niece simply looked away. She mumbled under her breath and turned to the officer. "I'm really, really sorry about this."

"It's alright. Happens to all of us. I need you to sign some papers and she can be released."

"We're not finished with this conversation, young lady," Iria hissed angrily and followed the officer to the front desk, leaving Hannah alone for a couple of minutes.

"It already did," she said, wore back her jacket and waited by the bars.

It wasn't long before the adults return and she was let out of her cell. The aunt and niece never talked as they got into the Hummer and drove to her high school for the fifth discussion with the principal about her ridiculous leave in the middle of Biology.

It would be suspension for some weeks and after that, the heated conversation between relatives would continue.

* * *

"Never realize how damn quiet this cell is. You must get bored out of your mind."

"I'll geeet used to it."

The silence fell again for the third time. The absence of Iria was strangely unfamiliar for Steve, despite only known her for two days. It might be the fact that a new face besides Iria made him feel uneasy, to the idea that if he moved an inch, Zach would grab his Taser out of its holster and shoot him.

For Zach, he was worried he would be turned into prey if he made a sudden move.

There were moments the two didn't talk, while Steve finished his lunch and gulped down the hot cocoa from the flask.

"I guess you find Iria nice, huh?"

"She's okaaay... Sometimes a little too cheerrrful..."

The talk was quickly becoming uninteresting. It needed something to spice up.

"So you're interested in her?"

The red-blood eyes jerked wide. The green monster choked on his drink. "What?! No! I m-meeean she's good and all but thaaat's it!"

"Oh. It sounds like you already got a girlfriend. You've been real busy before you dropped here, haven't ya?" A sneaky grin stretched across his faintly-shaved jaws.

This time, Steve didn't deny and stared at the floor. He still remembered the words he said to Claire in her arms crystal clear. Thinking back, he couldn't believe he had said those exact words after spending just a few days with her in the freezing hellhole. Questions arose in his head. Would he have done more for Claire if he had kept the promise? If he had stayed alive, would she have become his girlfriend and the relationship gone forward?

However, there was no way to get the answers.

His fingers stroked the large furrowed scar on his lower abdomen, the tiny closed holes – where his stitches once were – scattered diagonally. He could never forget the impaling assault.

His thoughts traced back to the reality he was in. Caged up in a place he knew entirely nothing and up till now, he was given personal conveniences and the confident thinking life could become normal again from the generous blonde he'd only met.

No one could be that nice or open, not to a freak like him.

Steve began to wonder if her moves, her words, her smirks and the kindness he has been receiving relentlessly, were they an act?

"Hey, I got a queeestion..."

"Shoot."

"Why arre you and the Doc prrretending to help me?"

"What? You don't trust Iria and moi?"

Steve had expected him to flare out for asking such a question about his boss. It was not that he didn't trust her, he was unsure to.

"People in the laaab coats would start cutting me open underrr the scalpel as soon as I wokeee up. And yeeet...you trrreat me as if I'm norrrmal when we all know I'm a frrreak. Arrre you trying to soften me up so I won't go barrrbaric on you?"

"Whoa, now that's a bit heartless. But I can't blame you. Anyone gets the idea these coats means Doctor Frankenstein and a creation gone wrong," Zach pointed sketchily. "On the other hand, some of us ain't the kind of crazy people. Why am I here when I should be doing paperwork on virus structure right this minute?"

The notion never crossed his mind. Zach was talking to him for sometime now and Iria, for the past few days, had tossed aside labour to visit him.

They were different from some mad cold-hearted scientist.

"C'mon, she couldn't even act in the opera to save her own life, let alone pretending to be nice to you. It's just in her nature, helping others," said Zach. "And if she watches out for someone, then the team will do the same for that someone."

"Whhhy?"

"Because she does so for us too. In this facility, it's either you look out for yourself or don't and get killed. Sometimes, the things that happen here can change or scar you for life. If it wasn't for Iria, I think we'd be selfish absurd bastards looking for an easy way to the top."

There was little change embedded in Steve's doubt.

"Sure, you don't believe me, since I'm one of those lunatic scientists. But I ain't gonna lie about Big Sister Ai. How can I when she's attractive and headstrong?" he exclaimed. "Iria's got our backs and she has yours. Nothing more."

Leisurely, the hesitation in him softened. It couldn't be helped to assume everybody in white meant an enemy, especially since he was the subject.

He felt imprudent into misjudging Iria so fast.

"After all, everyone is a prisoner here."

Steve glanced up in surprise. The sentence was unusually spoken by Zach, aimed at much more than plainly him or some other ghastly creatures lodged in captivity.

_What did he mean by that?_

The quiet tiptoed for the fourth time, the conversation lost in a blink. It wouldn't be long before the day reeled onwards: sit in his cell as time stiffly passed by, wait for the blond-haired doctor to revisit with his dinner and at last, snug under the blankets and hope dreams were better than the realism of being a specimen.

Footsteps resounded in his ears. Many feet away from he sat. His excellent hearing immediately went to work, listening to stifled voices as well.

Not the voices he heard when he was unconscious a week ago. Not Iria's voice. They were strangers, three of them talking in a pack.

"Well, I'd better be off. If anyone found out I was lazing around, they'd cut me off my monthly pay check." Zach looked back. "Hey, kid. It's kinda rude to be staring into space."

The footsteps stopped at the door but the voices continued, loud and clear.

"-need a sample of the virus if we truly want to understand its molecular study. And no Doctor Mclenlan is going to stop us from doing that."

"What the heck?" Zach mumbled softly and listened in.

"Now that woman isn't around to poke her nose in business, we can proceed with the tests."

"But she's the head of this facility-"

"She has no power if she's not present."

"What if she finds out?"

"Who's going to tell her? The specimen? Ha! Like hell he could."

"'Hold back the tests until **he** is ready', she says. Her incompetence will be the downfall of our research if she doesn't show some backbone. That goody-two-shoes is nothing but an idiotic bitch!"

Steve couldn't believe his very sensitive ears.

"H-Hey? What's goiiing on?" he asked Zach.

The microbiologist gave no reply. He only glared icily at whoever stood behind the door. A hint of contempt rotted deep into his scowl.

Steve could tell he was despising the chatterers.

Quickly, Zach trawled out a portable satellite phone from his coat pocket, where his own cell phone also nestled. Mobile phones may be worthless inside the facility but not satellite phones.

He dialled in the numbers.

"Kailey, hey. Has Iria come back yet...? Okay, could you get hold of her? We've got a situation with the kid... No, nothing bad happen-I'll explain later why I'm here. Right now, the shrews are making their move. Send in some back up because I'll need all the help... Thanks, Kailey. Say, after this, how about I treat you to dinner?" The call finished with a disappointed grimace. "Sorry, kid. It was nice chatting with you but we've got to end it here."

Steve had been warned by Iria to mistrust power-and-money-hungry researchers and watch out for arrogant guards ready to gun down a loose experiment. The people outside were an example, ready to do the tests behind the head scientist's back.

And she wasn't here to stop them.

"They'rrre going to forrrce the tests on me..."

"That's if Iria doesn't make it here in the next fifteen minutes. Gotta stall them first," Zach declared. "Yo, kid. Lay low till she gets here and whatever you do, don't leave this cell. If you do, G.A.I.A. will be giving you a death warrant."

That did not sound good, if he knew what a G.A.I.A. was.

With no time to waste, Zach tapped his ID card and exited out the metal door. Steve barely captured a glimpse of the strangers, two men and a woman in the white coats and one holding an eccentric object in the woman's hand.

"Hello, Doctor Price, Morgan and who couldn't forget Walker."

"Doctor Torres, w-what are you doing here?" the voice of a nervous man questioned.

"Oh, you know. Helping out Iria, doing some check-ups on the kid here."

"It is not a patient and shouldn't be treated as one," barked another. "This is a rare specimen, the first to have the T-Veronica Virus!"

The vile word 'it' felt like a shot of a bullet into his core. Steve was referred as an 'it', not a 'he', seen as a mere keepsake. He was nothing more than a nameless object, which only held value to his newfound potency and deformity.

"Really? Because if I remember from the rumours about Rockfort, I heard that someone else contracted the virus too. So technically, he's not the first. Now, I couldn't help but overhear something about sedatives. Did you know there are a whole variety of them?"

"You heard-?"

"Everything."

Silence befell.

"So then, I assume you're going to inform Doctor Mclenlan about this matter."

"Pretty much."

"Torres, you're a nice guy," purred a female voice. "Why don't you let this one slip and I'll reward you with an exquisite date? Just the two of us?"

"Thanks, I'm flattered...but I wouldn't be caught dead dating a 'bitch' like you."

A scornful hiss spat at him.

"You should know your place, Torres. And so should Mclenlan! The T-Veronica Virus is valuable to our research, one that could modernize all the other viral agents we have here and that woman is wasting our time on corrupted statistics! The virus is right in that specimen and we are going to extract it, whether or not you report to her!"

"That's if you can get a hold of her!"

"Really?" uttered Zach confidently. "We'll have to see how this goes, now won't we?"

The stalling stood strong but it might only be a matter of minutes before they push Zach aside, charge in to sedate Steve and get what they required.

He then spotted Iria's Taser. In her scurry out of the facility, she had completely forgotten her weapon and bag. How careless she was, another one of her traits he noted.

He stood up, walked towards the bench and picked up the black gun between his huge green fingers. It was rather strange, a weapon he had never seen before. It looked like a gun but the trigger was over the handle and it most certainly did not fire rounds, devoid of a barrel hole. The Taser was small, resting on his big palm.

_What a weird gun_, he thought. _How the heck does it work?_

The arguably battle outside reigned on, mostly the good scientist winning. If in case it ended shortly, Steve was not going down without a fight. He would make things very difficult for the three spiteful physicians.

Unless they brought in reinforcement...

Steve never thought he would be considering it but he wished the blonde hadn't left.

_I hope you're on your way, Doc._

_

* * *

_

"You're not the fucking boss of me! So leave me alone!"

"Hanna-"

**BAM!**

The door slammed right at her face with such force that her nose became mildly bruised. Iria freed a heavy sigh and plopped her head on the timber.

The ride back to the bungalow turned into a flaring argument between the two. She grounded her niece for two weeks and the quarrel escalated, ending with Hannah's last harsh burst.

When they finally reached home, Hannah immediately jumped out the Hummer and shut herself in her room from society.

_When did she become like this?_

The head scientist began massaging her battered nose and decided to leave Hannah alone to cool down. The parent business has become very hard when her place among the kin was just a mere aunt. She crashed onto the sofa, letting the minutes pass for a while. Maybe she'd grab a bite since she missed lunch again.

Then it was back to the underwater facility, she thought unhappily.

She could just scream out her frustration, if she wasn't suffering from a sore throat. So she did the next best thing, scream mentally in her head. However, it meant getting a migraine.

Iria gazed at several photo frames that hung on her balcony wall, examining the captured faces within the frames – Hannah's eighth birthday party, Rick's successful school marathon race in sixth grade, her twelve colleagues and herself having a drink together and lastly a photo of her graduation day.

Her eyes fixed on it. There she was in the photo, wearing the formal uniform with a wide grin and the frozen wave of her rolled up diploma with a doppelganger right next to her, hugging her tight as they celebrated the joy together.

Humble unhappiness gripped Iria in seconds. The happy reminiscence brought a heartbreaking one she wished it never happened.

"Dores... I wish you and Matthew were here," she pleaded to no one.

Something vibrated in her pocket, fracturing her moment of recollection. She pulled out her mobile phone and flicked it open.

"Hello? Kailey! Uh, this is a bit awkward-what? What...? WHAT?!" Iria bolted out of the seat. Her jump almost tossed her glasses off the bridge of her nose. She felt like yanking her own hair off the scalp right on the spot. "Why, those sly assholes! When I get my hands on them-Okay, okay, I'm on my way."

She ended the call and ground her teeth at the mischief going on in her absence.

The scumbags would soon pay for their actions, so many punishments to choose for them. Perhaps she could toss them into a room with vicious Hunters. No, that would be too messy. Maybe target practices with her Taser.

The wicked schemes quickly dematerialized when she realized she was weaponless.

_Crap! I left mine at the facility!_

She hurried to the front door but not before halting, she looked back at Hannah's bedroom door.

"Hannah," she called, knowing well enough her niece wouldn't listen. She might have put on her earphones and turned up the volume on her MP3 player. "I'm leaving now."

No goodbyes or "I don't care" speeches. Not even a tiny swing of her door opening and a peek out to see Iria go. There used to be a time when her once darling little angel would say, "Bye Aunt Iria!" gleefully.

The angel she once knew was gone a long time ago, along with the misfortune of two members forever engraving deep in the family of three. Iria and Rick got over it little by little but Hannah encased herself in her rebellious chapter and blamed the whole world for their loss.

Iria turned back to the main door and out the porch. Hurrying to her car, she put her keys into the ignition and departed once again to the east coast at maximum speed.

The day just couldn't get any better.

* * *

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**Authoress:** YEAH! Next chp finished! Booyah! Although this chp doesn't have the Redfields like the last one, I'd like to note that the first few chps are pre-post to the outbreak, which will happen later and then more Redfields and other character events charge in a lot often. You could say the first part is about Steve and how he copes with the new life. There will be short/long sections of the other RE characters throughout the first part, depending on how my plot goes. One chapter may or may not have them.

I think about till 10 I'll bring out the outbreak because I'm that evil. And that I want to torture Iria some more.

Iria: You do this all the time to every character you create, don't you?

With salt and pepper.

Iria: ...

I'm deciding to write and post a glossary to clear questions up since there has and will be some things like G.A.I.A. (I haven't quite figure out what the letters stand for except "Artificial Intelligence" in the middle...any brainstorms from you guys?) that needs explanations. But it may not be complete until I finish this fic.

And if you're wondering what the Taser looks like, check the website www . taser . com where I got the idea (combine the url together to get the address)

Also, I keep picturing this as either a manga or a game in my head. And Iria starts as the first playable character and then her niece Hannah much later in the story. Then again, I always picture whatever I write as something and I have no idea why.

Anyhow, I may not be able to update the next chp so soon since school's coming up. (insert scream) But I do hope you enjoy this chp until then (maybe a week or so). Hope you read and review! See ya in the next chp!

Again, expect this chp to be re-edit again...I see some baaaaaaaaad errors -gets the delete button-

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**Next Chapte**r: The day has only begun and so has the showdown until Iria ends it. Steve will eventually learn the reason why everyone on the island are prisoners and the snare they have unknowingly been for nine years. And it is because of one man, Albert Wesker.

The decision to work willingly as a lab rat for the sake of others he never predicted rests on him, against Iria's better judgment. But if he chooses to go along with it, how rough the road ahead will be?

...Somehow that's not a good summary for the next chapter…I hate summaries...


	4. GLOSSARY

Disclaimer:_ I do not own any Resident Evil characters but I do own the head scientist mentioned here, Project N-Thanatos, everything about the project and much more coming in the next chps._

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_By Vickie_

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* * *

**GLOSSARY**

_Legend – Underlined entries apply only to Resident Evil: N-Thanatos. Brackets indicate the category entries belong to and 'x' specifies more information will be added._

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Bernard, Kailey: (Character) a genetic engineer who quit her pervious job as a LAPD crime scene investigation DNA analyst because of too many cases involving dangerous people and mong the twelve in Iria's day shift team. She lives with her mother who owns a grocery store in West Koralo.

Blue Zone: (Location) safe zone consisting of laboratories, dormitories, observatory and other services in the facility, from level 1 to 5.

Burnside, Steve: (Character) a young man who was once a prisoner on Rockfort Island, infected with the T-Veronica Virus and died two years ago. His body was preserved under life support and eventually revived by Iria and her team. However, upon waking from his recent coma, stress agitated him in an unfamiliar environment, causing a second mutation. He still retains his human mind but it is unclear how and why he mutated again. Although having shown hostility to anyone as he is now a new specimen in the facility, he begins to trust Iria whose decision in revitalizing him was based on giving him a second chance in life. _Special Note_ – There are signs that his mutation is reversing, indicating he may return to being human without a vaccine but the cause is uncertain at the moment.

Cape Inacio: (Location) an island in the Atlantic Ocean with an area of 300 miles and highest average annual rainfall is 410 inches, accessible by air or ferry. It holds a community town at the west coast and the facility secured at the east coast.

Erinye: 'x'

Evans, Dores Mclenlan: (Character) Iria's elder sister, deceased. 'x'

Evans, Hannah: (Character) a rebellious teenager and niece of Iria. After the death of her parents, she became a rebel and looks for trouble to get the attention of her aunt away at work. She has a record for theft, breaking and entering, and once for attempted assault.

Evans, Matthew: (Character) husband of Dores, deceased. 'x'

Evans, Rick: (Character) nephew of Iria and younger brother of Hannah. He takes responsibility in housework and care of the whole family after Iria was selected to be in charge and had to spend more time in the facility.

Research Facility, Cape Inacio: (Location) an underwater research facility over hundred kilometres from the east coast of Cape Inacio, accessible by underwater train. Hidden in the ocean to protect its continuation from the government and rival companies such as Umbrella Corporation, it encloses all known viruses (eg. T-Virus).

Fisker, Victor: (Character) a relaxed geneticist almost always biting a toothpick and one of twelve in Iria's day shift unit. He has an eight-month pregnant wife, Nirvana.

G.A.I.A.: 'x'

Gelatinous liquid: (Material) a recently-developed substance the preserved Steve's condition for two years until Iria and her team revived him and repaired his body.

O'Leary, Samson: (Character) a biochemist with a boastful personality and one of the twelve in Iria's day shift team. "x"

Odell, Ian: (Character) chief of security. 'x'

Mclenlan, Iria: (Character) head of Cape Inacio facility and supervisor of the day shift team created mainly to escape her desk job. Graduated from Harvard University together with her elder sister, Dores, she was considered as the youngest virologist to have improved the Influenza vaccine, thus given an offer to work in the Cape Inacio facility. After the death of the former head, she was selected as the next person in command. She is in conflict with Wesker on a professional level and is finding a solution to free the people off the island without drawing attention. Caring and dedicated to her family and friends but shows a freeman's attitude to her job. _Special Note_ – She is half-Galician as her mother was born in Galicia, Spain and left to America in the late 1960s.

Project N-Thanatos: 'x'

Proustain Memory: memories unexpectedly re-encountered by the trigger of smell alone. Iria used the theory

Red Zone: (Location) a danger zone containing infected hosts under high security, from level 6 to 13. Personnel who enter the zone have to be vigilant as it is unpredicted what can happen in the danger zone.

Taser: (Weapon) an electroshock weapon meant to stun a targeted subject from a distance. It is protocol for all personnel in the science subdivision to carry a Taser for own protection in case security service is not present in scene. Tasers require battery systems as its cartridges.

Torres, Zach: (Character) a microbiologist and one of twelve in Iria's day shift team. 'x'

Virology: the study of biological viruses and virus-like agent, often considered as a part of microbiology and pathology.

West Koralo: (Location) the community town at the west coast of Cape Inacio. It is like any normal town but the townsfolk know nothing of the research facility and what is happening inside.

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_**5 Jan 2008  
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_**Authoress**_: Posted up the glossary with some extra details that would be mentioned in future chps. I'll add more as I post more chps along the way so not to spoil some parts too quickly. Hope you guys like this until I finish the next bloody chp.

Speaking of chps, I know it's been a few days but can pretty please there be REVIEWS for chp 2, which is currently empty of reviews? The emptiness for that chp's been mocking me. :(

And I'd love to thank my four readers who've read and review this fanfic! Thank you **wulfgarfang**, **Claire Burnside267**, **Cornebus** and **Black Light Princess**. For your great reviews and encouragement, I wish to dedicate a chp to you guys...not this one. This is a glossary. I want to dedicate a very good action-packed chp to you guys...which may come in the future. :x


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